


Star Crossed

by em_gray



Series: AU fic challenge [8]
Category: The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue Series - Mackenzi Lee
Genre: ??? only barely but tagging it just to be sure, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Murder, Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Child Abuse, Dubious Science, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gun Violence, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Imperialism, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Original Character(s), Pre-Relationship, Seizures, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, Suicidal Thoughts, Telepathic Bond, aka the fic where i pretend to know things about science and astronomy, but like. fun angsty so it's cool, i can't write antagonists without giving them supervillain vibes i'm sorry, i gave percy a big rebel family it's what he deserves, just one cause i gave jeanne a girlfriend fight me, mentioned not in depth, monty also does some stupid things, ok i lied it's actually, percy does some stupid things, spoiler: i don't, there's really enough stupid to go around, we really got it all guys, well the sci fi variant but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 100,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23801467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/em_gray/pseuds/em_gray
Summary: Henry "Monty" Montague, heir to the Galactic Empire, only has one real goal in life: meet his soulmate. Percy Newton also wants to meet his soulmate, but not nearly as much as he wants to bring the Empire down.
Relationships: Henry "Monty" Montague/Percy Newton
Series: AU fic challenge [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640491
Comments: 199
Kudos: 72
Collections: TGGTVAV AU Challenge Fics





	1. The Kidnapping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pinstripedJackalope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinstripedJackalope/gifts), [goldenthunderstorms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenthunderstorms/gifts).
  * Inspired by [fall from grace](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23708722) by [goldenthunderstorms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenthunderstorms/pseuds/goldenthunderstorms). 



> hello!!! here we are again!!  
> with this au I went with the opposite sides thingy from goldenthunderstorms' fic fall from grace, put it in a sci fi setting, added some soulmates to the mix, and here we are. I've gotten lowkey invested in this thing so I might continue it in the future.
> 
> this is also a formal apology for the cheesy title.  
> enjoy!

Twenty-five years of reign over the galaxy isn’t that big of a deal, come on.

I mean, maybe. We got a couple quadrants of solar systems looking to us for _literally everything_ , and I suppose there’s economic growth and less wars and all that good-sounding political stuff, but I think that hardly warrants this whole parade. They’ve been preparing it for _month_ _s_. At least ten blocks around the Main Square in every direction have been fenced off, and there’s more security than I’ve ever seen in my life. And that’s saying something—I live in a palace.

Doesn’t make any of it more interesting, though. I’m so bored, waiting backstage with only Felicity and a handful of guards to keep me company. Father’s gone out first to greet the crowd with Mother and the baby, and now he’s making his speech.

“Thank you all for being present here today.” His voice is muffled by the door separating us from the balcony he’s standing on. “It’s hard to believe it’s been twenty-five years—the horrors we all faced in the anarchy following the Supernova have been burned into all of our memories. The destruction the event brought upon our galaxy was unparalleled, and yet, would prove to be characteristic of the decade which was to follow. Wars were fought and atrocities were committed. I know many of you gave up hope there would be a future. But here we are.”

The crowd cheers. I roll my eyes.

“Thank you. But as we take this day to celebrate the Empire and all the progress we’ve made, it’s important to remember that none of it would’ve been possible without you, dear citizens. Without the hard-working people…”

I gag. Felicity gives me a look that isn’t quite annoyance nor amusement.

“Is there anyone out there actually buying this?” I say.

“It’s important to keep up morale,” Felicity says. “Especially with all the Rebellion strikes these days.”

“Ugh. I don’t care. I just want to fast forward to the reception. I need a drink.”

Outside, the crowd erupts in a cheer, and I realize Father’s announced us. The door opens, and we’re led outside. “You’re insufferable,” Felicity says with a thin smile, already greeting the crowd.

The light is blinding. It’s just daylight, but after having to wait for so long in the dusky hallway, it feels like staring directly into a sun. I can’t even see the people I’m waving at. They sure sound enthusiastic.

I’m guided toward my seat, and Father finishes up our announcements—as if people really don’t know who we are by now—and then resumes his speech. Welfare in the quadrant, economy blooming, new resources being found every day, and on and on and on.

Blah. Blah. Blah.

On both sides of me, two guards stand. They’re all outfitted the same—a grey armored suit, with a helmet that hides their faces entirely. On their chests, they have the crest of the Empire printed.

I lean over at the one on my left, whose cape, I notice, isn’t properly attached to his left shoulder pad. “I really hope they compensate you properly for this job,” I say, hushed, “‘cause they couldn’t pay me all the money in the universe to be here right now.”

The guard doesn’t even turn his head. My comment gets me a sour glance from Felicity, though.

I sigh. By now, my eyes have adjusted to the light, and I look over the banister of the balcony, at the plaza we’re towering.

The Main Square has been finely decorated for the occasion. Flowers, garlands and gems, all brilliantly colored, are draped around banisters and lanterns. Against the surrounding buildings, flags with the Empire’s crest hang. Bubbles of water are suspended in the air, containing exotic fish that occasionally hop from one bubble to the next. Beautiful lights dance around the crowd. And speaking of the crowd—the show-up is impressive. I’m half wondering if they’re paid to be here. No one would voluntarily come to listen to my father’s speeches.

My father himself is standing behind a rostrum, speaking into a microphone. In front of him, at least ten cameras hover. I know this thing’s being broadcasted over several quadrants, but it just seems a little excessive.

“…new research has given us immense progress in our search of renewable energy…”

I’ve tuned out long ago.

 _They’re gonna be able to tell you’re bored out of your mind_ , a familiar voice in my head says.

I smile. _I don’t care if they know. Good morning, darling, so lovely to hear from you on this fine day. May I say that you look dashing this morning?_

He chuckles. _Very funny._

There is no way I can tell what he looks like today, nor ever, unfortunately. That’s not how soulmate bonds work.

 _Besides_ , he adds, _I’ve been up since five._

I scoff. _Show-off._

_Jealous?_

_Am not._

Story time. Long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away, a star exploded. Which, all right, happens a lot, but this was a really big star, and it was only a couple galaxies away from the Earth, so it was kind of a big deal. The blast permanently altered a considerable part of the universe. For one, it deep fried the Earth, rendering it mostly uninhabitable, and it sent out some sort of… invisible wave. No one really knows what it was made of. Old superstitions call it magic. Scientists call it… some science-y thing, I don’t know. But the point is that it had _effects_. The most well-known, most likely, are the occasional soulmate bonds.

Some people are born with telepathic links to their so-called soulmate—the person you’re supposed to end up with. And most people do, don’t get me wrong, it’s just that it’s a big universe out there so you’re actually quite lucky to even _meet_ your soulmate in person. Especially because the restrictions on the bond can make things rather difficult.

One: you can’t tell each other your names. Even nicknames are sometimes difficult.

Two: you can’t tell your soulmate where you are.

Three: you should always stay vague about… well, basically anything that could lead you to each other.

Which is a pain in the ass.

I’ve heard that, once you and your soulmate meet in person and you actually figure out you’re each other’s soulmate, those restrictions disappear. But alas, I haven’t met my darling soulmate yet, so annoyingly talking around everything, it is.

 _Nah, I kinda got a big thing today_ , my soulmate tells me.

I wrinkle my nose. _Stop. You’re making me curious._

_Too bad. You started it. You’ve been complaining about whatever event you have to be at today for literal weeks._

_Well, it sucks_ , I retort. _I’m actually going to fall asleep right here, in front of everybody._

_Everybody? So it’s a public thing?_

_Yep._

_We could run into each other._

I almost laugh out loud. Felicity gives me a funny look.

 _Sadly, the odds of that are rather slim,_ I say.

He hesitates. _D’you ever think about… meeting? I know we can’t arrange it, but… What if we meet, and we just don’t notice?_

 _That sounds awful,_ I say.

_Well, what can we do about it?_

I think about it for a second, then sit up. _Tell you what. We just need… a code, or something. Something really specific, with two parts, and when we meet, one of_ _us_ _can say the first part, and the other has to say the second part. That way we both know it’s us, right?_

_Do you think that would work? As in… would the bond let us?_

_Only one way to find out. Here, if you ever see a stunningly handsome guy, and think ‘That_ has _to be my soulmate’ you say… Umm…_

He chuckles. _“_ _Odd weather. I saw the stars fall out of the sky this morning.”_

_All right, you weirdo. Then I’ll reply with “Not odd at all. They just realized they couldn’t outshine me.”_

I can tell he’s smiling, and I can’t help but smiling too. _Love ya_ , I say.

_Love you too._

I try to tune in to Father’s speech again, but it’s literally impossible. So I just stare into the distance, over the crowd, past the city, at the bright blue sky. Our second—and biggest—sun is starting to peek over the edges of the buildings. I’m so bored I’m looking at a sunrise, I realize. Ugh. I’m about to start pestering my soulmate about something pointless again—anything to get through.

Then, there’s a massive explosion.

The quake of it rattles through my bones, and if I had been standing, I’d definitely have fallen over. I’m not the only one in that—the entire crowd gasps and cries out, grabbing hold of each other for balance.

On the other side of the square, its source hidden somewhere between the buildings, a cloud of blue smoke rises. Felicity and I exchange a panicked glance.

“What’s going on?” I ask her—though ‘yell at her’ would be a more accurate description. It’s hard to be heard over the mass hysteria.

“How should I know?” Felicity snaps back, though she’s looking concerned, too.

“Get them out of here!” Father barks at the guards, gesturing at us. Then, to the camera team: “Cut the feed! Why are you still–”

I don’t catch the rest of it, because I’m dragged on my feet by my two guards, and pushed toward the doors leading back inside. Felicity and Mother with the Goblin—who has started crying, great—are urged to follow me.

Once we reach the ground floor, we’re properly submerged into the chaos. Security is running all over the place, yelling either into communicators or just at each other. I realize I’ve stopped to gawk when I feel a hand on my arm dragging me along, and we’re guided toward a back entrance. There, in the alleyway, three vehicles await us. Mother and Adrian are shoved into the first. As soon as the doors close, the vehicle turns invisible and blasts off, engines whirring. Felicity is then shoved into the next.

The final vehicle pulls up in front of me, and I’m about to get it, when there’s another explosion. This time it’s right in front of me. The blast throws the vehicle against the opposing wall and knocks me off my feet. I’m caught by one of the remaining two guards. He pulls me back onto my feet, hand still resting on his shoulder, and pulls out his weapon.

He raises it, and I’m trying to find where our attacker could be–

–when he suddenly aims for my other guard and tasers him.

I watch the guy twitch, electricity crawling over his suit, before collapsing onto the ground. The alleyway goes dead silent. Dust settles.

I’m gasping for breath, feeling so scared I think I’m going to faint. I take a few stumbling steps away from my only guard left standing and face him. I realize it’s the one with his cape not properly attached—the one I made a joke to earlier. He points his gun at me.

“I’m sorry, _my lord_ ,” he says, voice canned by his helmet, a mockery on the title, “but you’re not going back to the Palace any time soon.”

_Shit._

I’m gripping a fence for support, looking around me. I’m completely alone now. The other guards left with Mother and Felicity, and only I’m left in what I am starting to realize is very likely an assassination plot.

 _Uh, hi, darling?_ I say to my soulmate, at a complete lack of something else to do. God, I hope he’s not distracted or asleep or-

 _What’s going on?_ comes his reply, and relief floods me. _Why are you so scared?_

 _I just want to tell you that I love you dearly and I’m so glad you were there for me for these past eighteen years_ , I reply, and I wonder if my voice can tremble when talking via our bond.

 _What’s going on?_ he asks again, this time more urgent.

 _Oh, nothing_ , I say, looking at my reflection in the guard’s helmet, his gun still trained for me. _It’s just that there is a 98% chance I’m about to die._

_What?!_

“Your communicator.” The guard holds out his hand. “ _Now!_ ”

It takes me ridiculously long to get the bracelet off, and I’m half convinced he’s going to shoot me for my clumsiness alone.

_What’s going on? Where are you? What can I do?_

_We both know_ _you can’t do anything_ , I say back wryly. _Though I’d appreciate some last words about how amazing I am and how much you love me._

 _Oh, Christ_ _–_

I end up half tossing the bracelet in his hand, and he instantly drops it and crushes it under his heel. The mechanism gives one final protest in the form of a spark of electricity, then gives up.

The guard grabs my arm brusquely, shoving the barrel of his gun into my back and dragging me through the alleyway. “Put on your hood,” he snaps at me. “One wrong move and I swear to God I’ll shoot you.”

 _Hang in there, okay? You’ll figure something out. You can’t die, all right? We haven’t even met yet_ _–_

 _I’m doing my best!_ I almost yell back.

The guard guides me through narrow, deserted alleyways that disorient me. I’m half preoccupied with my own sheer terror and half with my soulmate’s.

 _This is, uh, probably a bad time,_ his voice comes after a while of us generally panicking at each other about my nigh demise, _but I’m not so sure I’m going to survive today, either._

 _What in the galaxy are you doing?_ I shout back at him.

We round a corner and arrive at an open space between buildings. He stops and lets go of my arm to fish around for something in his pocket. Eventually he finds it—a small, metal device, and I’m thinking _oh my god that’s it that’s what he’s gonna use to kill me is it going to be more painful than just being shot? Why did he bring me here in the open oh my GOD am I about to be slaughtered-_

“Hey! You two!”

We both freeze and turn.

Across the small square, another member of my father’s security team stands—I recognize the crest on his chest. He’s got his weapon half lifted, as if he’s unsure about whether or not we’re a threat. Then he recognizes me. “…Your Highness?”

My captor speaks before I can. “I’m bringing the Prince to safety,” he says, and I want to scream _No, he’s not he’s going to kidnap and/or torture and/or murder me!_ but I still have the gun pointed at me and I couldn’t say a word even though I wanted to.

The other man hesitates. “My lord? Is that true?”

Oh God, now _I’m_ supposed to say something. My captor mutters under his breath: “Tell him.”

But I’m so scared my vision’s going spotty and the words end up stuck in my throat. “I–” I stammer. “I–I’m…”

Fortunately, the other guard seems to realize what’s going on. “…I see,” he says. Then, lightning fast, he lifts his gun and fires. I have half a second to think _I’m going to get caught in the crossfire_ before my captor pulls me toward him. I hear a metallic _clank_ , then a yelp. Then, silence.

I lift my head. Over my captor’s shoulder, I see the other guard lying on his back, electricity still sparking over him.

 _Are you still alive?_ my soulmate asks.

 _I think you’d notice if I’d die_ , I say.

I realize my captor’s still holding me, both arms around me and his back turned toward the other guard. For a very, very strange moment, I think he’s tried to shield me. I wrangle out of his grip.

“You shot him,” I yell at him, though most of my defiance is filtered out by gasping.

“I didn’t _shoot him_ ,” he says, regarding me—or at least, I think he is. I can’t see his face behind the visor of his helmet. “He tried to shoot _me_. His own blast ricocheted.”

I turn to look at where the latest arrival is lying in the dirt, across a completely empty square. “Ricocheted off what?” I ask, frowning.

I hear a _blip!_ and suddenly a goddamn _spaceship_ towers over me. I stumble back, and I’m met with a hand in my spine pushing me forward. “This way,” my captor says.

Goddamn invisibility shields.

I am then forced to climb onto a rickety ladder onto the ship’s roof. My heels keep getting snagged between the levels. My captor follows me, and I briefly consider an escape attempt—since his grip on his weapon is less steady while he’s climbing—but I’m a little preoccupied with adding _falling off this thing_ to the list of possible reasons I could die within the next minute.

When I finally arrive on the roof, my legs are trembling. I sink down, grabbing onto a latch to make sure I don’t slide off. We’re at least fifteen feet from the ground, and I can see onto the roofs of the lowest houses surrounding us. No one is around. _Please, someone, help me_.

I don’t realize I’ve accidentally said that to my soulmate until his sarcastic reply comes. _I would absolutely love to._

_Oh, great to know you’re still alive, too._

_We’re both going to be fine, all right?_

_Speak for yourself._

My kidnapper—I think it’s likely at this point I’m being kidnapped, since that would be the only reason to not have killed me yet—climbs onto the roof next to me. He readjusts his grip on his weapon and aims it at me. “Open the latch and get inside.”

I look at the thing I was leaning against. “This latch?”

“Yes, that latch.”

“…How does it work?”

“You just take the lever, and-”

“This one?”

“No, that’s the– No, not that one either-”

Five minutes later I’m finally climbing down a new ladder—thankfully metal and solid this time. I find the last level to still be quite high above the ground.

“Where’s the rest of the ladder?” I ask.

“There is no rest. Just jump.”

“That’s at least five feet!”

“It’s three _at most._ ”

When I finally let myself drop, a sharp pain cuts through my ankle. I yelp, hopping on one foot with my hand clutched around the other, until I find a bench against the wall and sit down. “Ow! Your stupid ship made me break my ankle!”

“You did not break your ankle.” He closes the latch behind him, locking, then swiftly jumps down. “If you don’t know how to land, that’s not my problem. See? It’s easy.”

“That’s just because you’re taller!” I protest.

I’m ignored. He runs through the ship, toward the front, where he sits down in the pilot’s chair and starts pressing a variety of buttons. The ship comes alive, engines roaring, and I grab onto something not to fall over.

“Hang on tight,” he says, too late.

I realize I’ve grabbed hold of a backpack. When it turns in my hand, I’m greeted with an all too familiar logo: a crown topping a dagger. My veins turn to ice.

“You’re with the Crown and Cleaver,” I gasp.

He pulls over a lever, and the ship starts hovering over the ground. I almost fall again. “Who else would try to kidnap the Crown Prince?” he asks.

 _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ _Fuck._

 _What’s going on?_ my soulmate asks.

_Stop asking that, you know I can’t tell you._

_I know_ , he sighs, _It’s just in times like this that I really, really hate that soulbonds work this way._

Through the windshield, I can see we’re taking off, slowly until we’re towering over the city. On the Main Square, there’s still a mass of people panicking. Which seems stupid, since they are not being kidnapped by a goddamn group of rebels.

 _I have some good news, though_ , my soulmate says. _The chances of me going to die today are diminishing._

 _Oh, that’s great_ , I reply, _at least then someone can mourn me._

_You’re not going to die. You’re too stubborn for that._

I sigh deeply. _I hope so._

The ship picks up speed, and soon we’re leaving the atmosphere, the colors of the city and its surrounding areas make place for the inky blackness of the universe. My heart sinks. The frenziness of the past half hour turns into a weary certainty.

Panic is exhausting.

Once we’re at a proper height, my captor is typing something onto the console, pressing a few buttons, and with a final pull of a lever, we’ve entered hyperspeed. He exhales, letting himself fall back into his chair.

 _I can’t believe I just did that_ , my soulmate says.

 _Did what?_ I ask. _I thought I was the reckless one out of the two of us?_

Illuminated by the stars blurring around us, my captor takes off his helmet, putting it down on the ground next to his chair. He shakes his head, then rakes his fingers through his hair. He’s got quite long hair, black and frizzled and tied into a ponytail. He slowly turns his chair toward me, and I’m startled to see he can’t be much older than I am.

“It’s just you and me now,” he says.

I flinch, pressing my back against the wall. “You’re going to kill me? _Now?_ What was all that effort for, then?”

“What–” He chuckles. “No, I’m not going to kill you. Then you wouldn’t be worth much as leverage on the Emperor.”

The Emperor. My father. _Oh, fuck._ If I make it out of this alive, Father’s _definitely_ going to kill me.

“So a kidnapping it is,” I say. I hope I sound brave. I’m not feeling brave at all. Then I frown. “Why am I not tied up?”

He frowns. “What?”

“Well!” I shrug violently. “That’s how kidnappings go, right?”

“Do they?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been kidnapped before.”

“Well, I’ve never kidnapped anyone before.”

We stare at each other.

“…You’re kidding, right?” I say.

He sighs through clenched teeth. “Did seriously no one ever kidnap you before? But you’re, like, one of the biggest deals in the galaxy.”

He actually sounds proud of himself.

“No one succeeded,” I say, reluctantly. “Though I’m rather surprised you’re getting away with it, if you’re stupid enough to put your prisoner next to your weapons closet.” I nod at the guns hanging on racks beside me. In truth, I wouldn’t even know at which end the blast comes out, but it seems wise not to tell him that and merely profit of the psychological damage I’m dealing him right now.

His eyes widen. “Right. Of course. Let me just see if I have any rope lying around here…” He stands up and starts rummaging through a trunk, his back to me—another very bad move. Really, if I were any less of a coward, I’d have kicked his ass by now.

Attempted mockery it is, then. “Really? You’re going to kidnap someone and you didn’t think to bring _rope_?”

“I didn’t think I’d get this far!”

I stare at him. “You are so lucky I’m better at being kidnapped than you are at kidnapping people.”

“Shut up.”

 _Update_ , I tell my soulmate as this rebel is tying my wrists together, _an attempt on my life has been made, but my attacker is so utterly incompetent that the odds of me surviving this and the odds of me dying by accident have evened._

Something shifts in the rebel’s expression. His hands freeze on mine. “Did you say something?” he asks.

I briefly wonder if I’ve accidentally said that out loud. But I couldn’t have. “No,” I say.

He opens his mouth, as if he’s about to say something else, but then a voice creaks over the intercom.

“ _This is home base to Newton. Newton, come in._ ”

The rebel runs toward the cockpit, pressing a button. “This is Newton. What’s going on?”

“ _Percy. Finally._ ” It’s a woman’s voice, and she sounds tense.

Percy Newton? Is that my kidnapper’s name? I shall definitely be using that info against him once I get out of here.

“ _Where have you been? You dropped off the grid._ ”

Percy Newton hesitates. “I… had to pass through a meteor field, and it caused interference. Sorry.”

“ _It doesn’t matter. You need to come home_ right now.”

“What happened?”

“ _Ugh. You are not going to_ believe _this_ ,” the woman says, “ _but some complete_ moron _actually kidnapped the Crown Prince._ ”

He freezes up.

“No way,” he says after some time.

“ _It’s happening, all right. I swear, if I ever get my hands on them_ _–_ ”

Percy swallows.

“ _But there’s nothing we can do about it now. I need you back in the base_ five minutes ago. _We’re locking everything down. The Empire is going to kill us all for this._ ”

There’s a tremor of fear in his voice. “…Right. I’ll– I’m on my way home right now.”

“ _Good. I have to go now_ _—_ _the whole base is a mess_ _—_ _but I’ll see you once you get here. Over and out._ ”

“Over and…” Percy still says, dazed, though the line’s already lapsed back into static. He turns a button to shut it off. Almost in slow-motion he lets himself sink back into his chair.

“Let me get this straight,” I say, and he starts. “Not only are you a rebel working for the Crown and Cleaver, you kidnapped me _without them knowing?_ ”

“It was their plan in the first place!” he defends. “They just chickened out because it was ‘too risky’ or something. But it’s the best shot we’ve got at coercing the Emperor into–” He cuts off, final word lapsing into a sigh. He buries his face into his hands. “Good Lord.”

“Wow,” I say, not feeling particularly sympathetic. “You really are the worst kidnapper in the galaxy, darling.”

At my last word, he tenses up. He slowly lifts his head to look at me. “What did you say?”

“That you’re the worst kidnapper in the galaxy?”

“No, I-” He changes his mind, looking away, then back at me. Frowning. Really, _really_ looking at me. It almost scares me.

 _I just had the craziest idea_ , my soulmate says.

_Going to do more reckless things, are you?_

_No, not like that, but_ _–_

“I…” He hesitates. Then, to himself: “God, what am I thinking?”

 _I’m going to try something stupid_ , my soulmate tells me.

_Oh, please, do share._

Percy Newton takes a sharp breath. Looks me dead in the eye. Then, he says slowly: “Odd weather. I saw the stars fall out of the sky this morning.”

All the air is knocked out of me. I’d shrink back further in my seat if my wrists weren’t tied to a pillar. “ _What?_ ” I gasp.

Watching my reaction, Percy looks at least as panicked as I’m feeling. “Does that… mean anything to you?”

“ _Why would you say that?_ ” I half-cry at him.

“B-Because-” He swallows. He’s on his feet now. “Because that’s what my soulmate and I agreed to recognize each other by if we’d meet.”

I’m completely dumbfounded. “ _No_ ,” is the only thing I can articulate.

“What’s the second part?” he insists. “What’s the reply?”

 _No. No way. There is no way that he’s_ _—_ _that_ he _of all people -_

 _I can hear you panicking, you know_ , my soulmate says.

_You’re also panicking!_

_I have a very good reason to be panicking!_

_So do I!_

“No,” I say. “How do you-? How did you?” There is no way that–

“Just say it,” Percy says.

I really, really, _really_ don’t want to. In one breath, I say: “… Not odd at all, they just realized they couldn’t outshine me.”

We gape at each other.

“No,” Percy says. “No way. No _way_ _–_ ”

“You’re a _rebel_ ,” I manage.

“You’re the fucking _Crown Prince of the Empire_!”

We stop yelling at each other for a moment, though it might just be because both of us are speechless.

“There’s only one way to know for sure,” Percy eventually says.

“Don’t _–_ ”

 _My name,_ my soulmate says, and I want so badly for him to be cut off, for the bond to shut him up, because there is no way that _he_ is my soulmate, so it would only make sense he wouldn’t be able to say it, because he can only say it if we both already _know_ _–_

_My name is Percy Newton._

I gape at him. I’m so stunned I can’t even think anymore. I take a deep breath, and reply with the only thing I can.

_Fuck._


	2. The Crown and Cleaver

Okay. Let’s just… take it from the top.

I lean back, resting my head against the wall, but the spaceship’s rattling so badly I instantly sit up again. Ugh. Stupid, rickety ship. Stupid rebels. Stupid… _soulmate bonds_.

All right. Let’s make a list. What do I know about my soulmate?

  
  


  1. He lost his parents when he was pretty young.

  2. He plays the fiddle.

  3. He has epilepsy.

  4. He’s supported me through thick and thin.

  5. He’s actually the most amazing person in the universe and I adore him.




  
  


I shake my head violently to rid myself of that last point. Ugh. It’s not fair. It’s _so_ not fair.

I need you to understand that I’ve known my soulmate for literally as long as I can remember. We were born only months apart. My entire life, he’s been… a part of me. Well, not literally, but it sort of feels like that. I know his sadness and anger and joy like I know the beating of my own heart. For eighteen years I’ve either talked to him or shared a comfortable silence with him or fought and made up with him. It wasn’t always smooth sailing, but we always got through, and no matter what it was, we lived through things _together_.

When I was thirteen and I’d kissed another boy for the first time and Father hit me so hard my vision went spotty, my soulmate talked to me so kindly and gently and reassured me I’d done nothing wrong, no matter what my Father said—or would continue to say for the five years that would follow.

Two years ago, when my soulmate found out he had epilepsy, I talked to him and made dumb jokes until he laughed, more out of misery than out of anything else, and I stayed up late just to make sure he was all right. (I’m not about to claim I’m the best soulmate there is out there, but I do care about him, and, well, his sadness is my sadness, so.)

When I was sixteen, freshly kicked out of Eton Academy, and I admitted to him that I wanted to die, he gave me five reasons not to. And every time I told him the same after, he never once got upset—he just gave me more reasons to live. The most prominent was _because we haven’t even met yet._

Until today, I’d thought that when I’d meet my soulmate, falling in love with him would be the easiest thing in the world.

It’s so not fucking fair.

I hear stumbling coming from the separate room inside the ship that Percy stormed off into—needlessly dramatic, I find. The worst part is that I can _feel_ how hard he’s taking all of this, too. He’s upset, and angry, and while I’m not too happy about it either, his reaction feels a bit exaggerated. I mean, I get that we’re enemies and all that, but come on, how unhappy can being _my_ soulmate make someone? Now that he’s seen my face?

As the kidnapping victim, I think I have more right to be upset.

The door opens, and he reemerges, briefly stopping in the doorway to send me a pointed glare. That’s rude. I glare back.

He’s changed from the guard uniform into something closer to what a rebel garderobe looks like in my mind: combat boots, grey-ish brown trousers, and an indigo jacket with the sleeves rolled up over a black shirt with an interestingly deep V-neck, offering a nice view of his chest (a hostage has to appreciate the simple things).

I realize I’ve really been scrutinizing him when my gaze passes over his face and I find him staring back at me, mouth pulled into a tight line. I start a little but do my best to hide it.

“Okay,” he says, words more sigh than sound, mostly talking to himself. “The base is shutting down. We need to… You have to…” He frowns, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then he nods, eyes shut. “Okay. Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do.”

Instead of telling me what, exactly, it is that we’re going to do, he snatches a pile of fabric of a shelf and throws it at me. As my hands are still tied, I can’t catch it, so it just puddles at my feet.

“Put those on,” he says. “You need a disguise.”

“Well, I sure would love to do that,” I say loudly. “But…” I demonstratively hold up my tied wrists.

“Right. Right.” Then, halfway through untying the knots, he falters. “Don’t try anything funny, all right?”

“Like what? Try to kiss you?”

The look he gives me actually hurts a little.

As soon as I start pulling my shirt over my head, he turns his back to me. It’s pretty obvious he’s embarrassed—which is stupid, since he _is_ my soulmate and really, he is missing out—but he still tries to disguise it as checking something on the dashboards in the cockpit. I look at the clothes I’ve been handed: a green, worn-down shirt, jeans, sneakers and a denim jacket. All of them, I find, to be endlessly to big on me. I half-wonder if they’re his. No matter how often I roll up the sleeves, they keep falling over my hands.

Life as a hostage is not easy.

Suddenly, the ship brakes, and I almost fall over. When I’ve regained my balance, I realize we’ve left hyperspeed, and the stars have gone from lines back to dots. I join him at the windshield.

My jaw drops.

We’re in a solar system with a handful of planets orbiting a single reddish sun. Right in front of me, completely on its own, is a _giant pirate ship_ . And when I say giant, I mean the size of an actual small _planet_. It’s tattered and looks ancient, but still impressive beyond words. Through the gun ports, spaceships the size of our own fly in and out (mostly in, at the moment). The whole thing has an artificial atmosphere that glows faintly blue every time a new arrival passes through. It’s even got a few moons orbiting it.

The rebel base is a bloody pirate ship.

“You want to know what a competent kidnapper would’ve done?” I say loudly.

He starts, taking a step aside and clutching his heart. “ _God_. Don’t scare me like that.”

“Keep a better eye on your hostages. Do you want to know?”

“No.”

“A competent kidnapper,” I say, “would’ve blindfolded me or locked me in a closed space when arriving at his secret hideout, so I couldn’t give away its location later on.”

He glares at me, jaw clenched. “Can you recognize a solar system on sight, then?”

And, delightfully, the computer takes that exact moment to chime up: “ _Arriving in the Clavis system, quadrant 243b._ ”

I give him a smug grin.

“Shut up.” He snatches something off a shelf and shoves it into my arms. I almost drop it. “Put that on.”

“What is it?” I frown. The object in my hand is metal, a sheet of slightly curved material with various components melded on. At the back, it’s got a loop around it.

“A mask. You need to hide your face.”

“You want me,” I point at myself, then at the offending piece of scrap, “to put _this thing_ on my head?”

“Yes.”

I scoff. “ _Why?_ Who am I disguising myself from?”

He’s already turned his back to me again, rummaging with… something metal with a bunch of levers, I don’t _care_ what any of these things are called. “The Crown and Cleaver,” he says. “You don’t want them recognizing you.”

“No, no, no. _You_ don’t want them recognizing me. Because then they’ll realize you fucked up and they’ll… throw you into space or kill you or whatever it is rebels do. Which, quite frankly, makes turning you in a far better option for me than doing as you say.”

He pivots on his feet, facing me, looking pissed. “First of all, we don’t kill anyone, all right? We are _not_ like the Empire.”

I roll my eyes. “The Empire only kills people when they have no other choice. _You’re_ the bad guys. Criminals with no moral code.”

He watches me for a moment, eyes squinted. “You actually believe that, don’t you?”

“It’s the truth.”

“It’s–” He stops himself before he can go any further, taking a deep breath. “I don’t care. Just do as I say.”

“You’ve still not given me a convincing argument not to hand you in.”

“Well, here it is: you also don’t want them recognizing you, because while I want to keep you alive to use as leverage, there’s plenty of people down there who won’t think twice about shooting you in the head.”

I cross my arms. “Weird. I thought you just said the rebels don’t kill people.”

“They–” Oh, it’s so easy to get on his nerves, it’s almost fun. He puts up his hands, steadying himself. “They don’t. I was exaggerating. But still. They’re not going to treat you half as well as I do.”

“Of course. Because kidnapping me and forcing me to wear horrendous clothes really is the height of hospitality.”

“Shut up and just put it on.”

I sigh. In spite of my arguments, he does have a point. And some shooting skills, likely. Not to mention that there is absolutely no way to return home on my own. My communicator is gone and I can’t exactly steal a ship, due to the fact that I would not know how to fly it. I stare at the metal in my hands.

“So what am I supposed to do? Go undercover?” I ask.

“Yes. You stick around and lie low until we find a good opportunity to negotiate with the Emperor.”

I put up my hands. “Just for the record here: I’m _actually_ going to have to pretend I want to be there?”

“Correct.”

“Gain the rebels’ trust? Make them like me? That sort of thing?”

“Exactly.”

I frown down at the mask. “Them not being able to see my face is _not_ going to help with that.”

  
  


I obviously have nothing to compare it to, but the space dock sure seems busy. There’s dozens of ships entering in rapid procession, and judging by the size of this thing, this can hardly be the only dock.

Percy puts down our ship, guided by some guy on the ground waving his arms around. We touch down, and Percy turns off the engine.

He stays put for a while, leaning forward and resting his head on his hands. I’m suddenly hit by a wave of nervousness. At first I think I’m worried the rebels are going to find out—but then I realize that it’s _him_ who’s so stressed he could throw up.

Well, too bad. That’s what he gets for kidnapping me.

Though he really should stop being so stressed because it’s actually making me a little light-headed.

A few minutes later, we’re climbing back up the ladder to the roof, which is even harder with this stupid mask. The part that covers my eyes has little holes in it so technically I can see through it, but it’s still bloody inconvenient, and I spare no effort to tell him so. He doesn’t reply, though I have a distinct impression he’s rolling his eyes.

I’m saved from the second ladder, fortunately, because at the height of the ship’s roof a platform awaits us, linked to—thank God—a decent fucking staircase. At the bottom, someone greets Percy, and he nods back. Lacking something better to do, I also nod at them.

Now we’re at ground level, the two of us are completely submerged into the chaos. People are running all over, and I get walked into and almost knocked over more times than I can count. I know I’m not that tall, but come on.

On the bright side, with all this uproar, we are barely noticed. Only a few people say hi to Percy and I am almost entirely ignored. Percy’s tense, I can feel it, and he beelines for one of the large doors. Then there is a maze of hallways that all look the same—everything’s clearly advanced technology, but somehow still manages to sort of look like the inside of a pirate ship.

I quickly lose track of where we are. Really, if I were a proper spy, I could get so much information against the Crown and Cleaver right now. Though, in my defense, I am in a pretty tight position, and with my soulmate internally freaking out, one can’t be blamed for not being focused.

The crowds start to thin after a while, and things quiet down. We walk for some time, and now that I’ve seen the size of this place, I am _not_ keen on running around for God knows how long. So I jog to catch up with Percy, and ask: “Where are we going, anyway?”

“Somewhere you can lie low,” he replies. “And stay out of sight, until–”

“Percy!”

We freeze. And turn.

A woman wearing a headscarf is standing in a doorway. She’s got her jaw clenched and seems a little out of breath.

“…Hey, Sim,” Percy says. He’s going for casual but it is nowhere even close. “Any news?”

Her eyes land on me. “Who’s that?”

I have no idea what to say. Fortunately, Percy speaks for me. “Just someone I picked up. Who I met. While… picking up resources. Yes. And he was on the run from the Empire. So I brought him here.”

Judging by Sim’s squint, she doesn’t believe it for a minute.

She crosses her arms—I spot she’s got a robotic arm—and leans against the doorframe. “Is that so? And why did you just _bring him here_ , instead of going through the regular safety procedures?”

“It… Normally, I really would have, but…” Percy’s rocking back and forth on his feet, eyes darting everywhere in search for a lie, “there was… an attack. The Empire attacked. So I had no choice but to bring him on board. And then you called so I returned here immediately.” He nods, seemingly convinced this is somehow an adequate lie.

Sim presses her lips together. “Right. And did you bring the resources?”

“Well, I didn’t manage to pick up any, given that we were chased and all.” He smiles at her—for some weird reason it occurs to me I haven’t seen him smile yet—and clasps his hands together behind his back.

 _Smooth_ , I think—apparently to him, because he gives me a sideway glance.

“What’s your friend’s name?” Sim tips her head at me.

“I’m–” I start, the same time as Percy says “This is–”

We also both cut off at the same time, looking at each other a bit helplessly.

 _What name do I give?_ my soulmate asks.

 _Henry Montague?_ I suggest.

Percy clenches his jaw. I can tell he’s about to say something else, but Sim interrupts: “Well?”

“It’s, um…” Percy vaguely gestures, as if that is a good end to the sentence. “M… Mont… y. Monty.”

I frown at him. _Monty? Really? That’s the best you can do?_

“Monty,” Sim repeats slowly. “Is that so.”

 _She knows_ , I tell my soulmate.

_She doesn’t know._

_She_ totally _knows._

“Why is he wearing a mask?” Sim then asks.

_See?_

My soulmate doesn’t respond to that. Instead, Percy says: “He… His face got disfigured. Some time ago.”

I turn to him, indignant. _My face got what now?_

“Really now,” Sim says. She’s looking at me, and I give her my best smile, before realizing she can’t actually see my mouth.

 _My face is in an excellent state_ , I insist. _I know this is a tense situation, but that’s no excuse to be rude._

I can tell my soulmate’s losing his temper, but he keeps his wits. Percy says, “Yes. And he’s kind of sensitive about it, so don’t-”

In a single step, Sim reaches me and rips my mask off.

We stare at each other for at least thirty seconds. Her eyes widen, mouth falling open, then her expression turns angry. I still try to give her my most charming smile, dimples employed, but it’s no use.

“Percy Newton,” she starts, every word through gritted teeth, “I am quite literally begging you to tell me you did _not_ kidnap the Crown Prince.”

At my side, Percy still opens his mouth, as if he might actually say that, but then decides against it. “What gave it away?” he mumbles.

Sim straightens her back, turning to him, arms crossed. She taps a finger to her cheek, pretending to think. “Let’s see. Starting off with the fact that you were the person most vocally against our decision to _not_ kidnap the Prince. Then there’s that surprise restocking mission you left on this morning, the fact that we couldn’t reach you during the kidnapping, and then of course there is you showing up here again with a complete stranger. Hiding his name and his face.”

Percy rubs his shoulder awkwardly. He’s feeling _really bad_ about the whole ordeal. Damn straight. I have no sympathy for him.

Sim sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Any other world-shattering revelations I should know?”

Percy lets his shoulders slump, dropping his head. “He’s my soulmate,” he says meekly.

Sim gapes at him. Then at me. Then she spends a moment looking between the two of us, as if there is some clue in our appearances about us being soulmates. Then she turns to Percy. “ _Please_ tell me you’re kidding.”

“I wish I were,” Percy says.

“So do I,” I helpfully add, but it only gets me a pair of glares.

Sim takes a deep breath. Then another. Then another. Percy and I both wait. I’m oddly reminded of children having caused mischief and are now facing a parent. Well. Given what my father’s like, the damage I sustain here today might be similar.

“Okay,” Sim eventually says. “Okay. This is what we’re dealing with.” She rights herself again, chin up. “What we need to do, is find a way to convince the Empire you’re _not_ here.” She’s talking to me.

I’m about to suggest that perhaps they could just return me, but Percy says: “You’re… not going to turn us in?”

Sim gives him a lethal glare. “I can barely believe it myself, but I’m not. I still might change my mind, but we need to make sure the Empire _doesn’t_ blow us all into oblivion first.”

Percy falters. “Why… do we have to convince them he’s elsewhere? Why can’t we just use him as leverage?”

Sim rolls her eyes. “Don’t be naive. They’ve been looking for an excuse to destroy us all for ages. And…” her eyes rest on me, “you might’ve just given them one.”


	3. The Broadcast

“I’m still not sure why I’m preventing the rebel base from getting blown up.”

“You are in the rebel base.”

“…Fair point.”

I sigh, sitting down on the crate I’ve been leaning against. I’m in what I’m fairly certain is a storage closet. It can’t be more than eight feet square, and it is stuffed to the brim with parts of weapons and gadgets and random artifacts, all covered in a thick layer of dust. We made way (by means of running as inconspicuously as humanly possible) through half the ship, and I’ve a feeling these areas tend to be deserted. Which would make sense, for the stunt we’re about to pull.

Sim’s in the middle of the room, setting up a camera and linking it to a computer. Percy’s standing near the window, tension in his brow as he intermittently checks his communicator and the view outside. He’s been quiet since we got here, and I’m sort of relieved.

“Still,” I say after a while. “They’re not going to attack while they know I’m in here. They wouldn’t risk my life.”

“I’m not betting mine on that.”

I mindlessly tap the metal surface of my mask, lying beside me. I’ll not wear that thing a second longer than I have to. It stares back at me, catching the light from the lonely bulb at the ceiling.

I let my gaze aimlessly wander across the room. Somehow I end up with Percy. He’s looking outside, focused, the night sky casting ever so slight highlights across his silhouette, reflected in his dark eyes. I find it’s difficult to take my eyes off him.

Listen. He’s _attractive_ , all right. I’m not going lie about that. He is. Which is one comfort.

He catches my eye, and I look away, maybe a little too dramatically. I feel the heat rising to my cheeks.

I clear my throat rather awkwardly. “Remind me what other outcast organization we’re blaming?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Percy says, at the same Sim insists, “None.”

I look between them, awaiting a proper decision.

“We’re not blaming anyone, okay?” Sim sends us both emphatic looks. “The other rebel organizations are struggling enough as it is. We’re the strongest out here. We’re not letting anyone else take our hits.”

“Weird,” I say, mostly to be annoying, “I really thought this plan involved making sure the Empire believes someone else kidnapped me.”

“It does,” Percy says, then trades a look with Sim that reminds me of parents disagreeing on what rules they are setting for their child. It’s getting on my nerves.

Sim temporarily abandons the wires she’s plugging in to cross her arms. “We just need to get them looking in another direction. Send them on a wild goose chase. If they target another rebel organization, it’s a matter of time before they search their hideout and find that he–” _he_ being me, “–isn’t there. It’s not a long term solution.”

“Long-term?” I frown. “How long are you planning to keep me prisoner?”

I am, rudely, ignored.

“What do we do then?” Percy asks. “Make something up?”

Sim’s about to reply, but then her eyes get stuck on something behind Percy. I realize she’s looking out of the window. Percy realizes it too, and he turns.

“Here they are,” Sim says grimly.

I get on my feet and join Percy at the window. The sight actually startles me. I should be relieved, since they’re technically coming to my rescue, but it does seem a little… aggressive.

An entire armada of spaceships in all shapes and sizes are dropping out of hyperspeed, going from white lines to the war vessels that they are. Shining and smooth and all of them carrying the Empire’s crest, armed to the teeth as more weapons than I’ve ever seen in my life are stationed, charged, and aimed.

“How did they even find you so fast?” I say, and it comes out a little pitched.

Sim grits her teeth. “They’ve always known where we are.” She swiftly returns to the camera and starts typing something on the computer’s keyboard at light speed.

Percy follows her, asking, “Can you get the stream up?”

“I don’t know,” she says, sounding tense. “For this thing to work, we’d have to be able to broadcast in a radius of at least a few quadrants, and this isn’t exactly my area of expertise.”

“Do I go get someone from hacking?”

“Too late for that. It’s this, or nothing.”

I’m still gaping at the window. A slight ringing has started in my ears. “I don’t understand,” I say. “If they knew where you are, why didn’t they destroy you before?”

“They couldn’t,” Percy says, “Not without damaging their own image. We have the public opinion on our side.”

“We certainly used to,” Sim mutters. Percy tenses up, but doesn’t respond.

I frown. “I… Huh. But you’re… you’re the bad guys. Everyone knows that.”

Sim looks over her screen to narrow her eyes at me. “Why don’t you sit down and focus on looking pretty and tragically kidnapped, Your Highness?”

“I’m already pretty and tragically kidnapped.”

Percy falters for a moment, looking to Sim as if he’s unsure she’d approve, but then says anyway, “We aren’t the villains here. You might’ve been made to believe that we are, but…”

“Right. ‘Cause you guys don’t do any villainous actions, do you? You’d never, say, kidnap anyone, would you?”

“We do what we have to,” Percy says, and Sim adds, without looking up from her screen, “That was his mistake. I’m not involved in any of this and neither is the Crown and Cleaver.”

Percy bites his lip. When he speaks again, his voice is softer than I’m used to, and there’s a little edge of desperation on it. He gestures at the window. “Look outside. We don’t stand a chance. They’re going to obliterate us. Does that seem like a very heroic thing to do?”

I’m about to retort, but then the walls begin to tremble. First I think they’ve opened fire, but then I realize it’s a voice, booming through the building. It repairs itself from being mostly static into being coherent and actually human-sounding. Now that it’s at a normal volume, I realize it’s coming from three places at once: the computer, and Sim and Percy’s communicators. Percy taps something on his, and a screen pops up.

With a shock, I realize that it’s my father.

“– _n and Cleaver. You’ve tormented the galaxy for many years, but today you’ve gone too far._ ”

His voice is cold, calm with controlled rage, and I stumble back a step, all my muscles tensing as if I’m physically being attacked. _Pull it together._ I take a deep breath, trying to play off my overreaction as if it never happened.

But when I look up again, Percy’s watching me.

As soon as he notices, we both look away. Percy nods at the screen. “He can’t see us, you know,” he says softly. “This is a building-wide broadcast.”

“I know that.” I say, as flippantly as I can muster, though my voice sounds wobbly.

Meanwhile, Father’s still talking. “… _have insulted me beyond words. To disturb the peace at our ceremony. To_ _endanger out people_ _. To_ kidnap _my_ son _…_ _!_ ”

I don’t bother questioning why I am last on that list.

“ _You have one chance. Return him to me, alive and unharmed…_ ”

 _Oh, does he suddenly care about my well-being?_ I think.

I didn’t mean to say it to my soulmate, but I catch Percy looking at me again, something unreadable in his expression, so I might have.

“… _and I’ll consider giving you all a fair trial. If you don’t, today’s will have been the last sunrise you’ve ever seen._ ”

None of us say anything. Sim is still fervorously working on the computer. I realize my heart is pounding. Father says nothing else, and we all count the seconds until something happens. A full minute ticks by.

“ _Even too cowardly to show their faces_ ,” Father mumbles. I realize I’m clutching the edges of the crate behind me, my joints starting to ache with it.

“ _Very well._ ” He turns to someone off-screen, and says, “ _Begin chargi_ _–_ ”

“ _Stop_.”

It’s another voice, transmitting via the same medium. The next moment, a new screen pops up beside Father. The new man is broad-shouldered, bald-headed and has a thick, black beard. His gaze is dark.

“ _Ah, Mr Aldajah_ ,” Father says. “ _Showing up at last_.”

At the name, Sim briefly glances up, jaw setting.

“ _We don’t have your boy, Montague._ ”

“ _Of course you don’t._ ” He carelessly brushes some dust off his coat, eyes aside, and I know him too well to mistake that for calmness. “ _You wouldn’t mind a search of the premises, then?_ ”

“ _You are_ not _entering this base._ _You have no right. We are not affiliated with the Empire._ _You have no control over us._ ”

“ _The pleas of someone who has something to hide. Something to_ lose.”

Aldajah doesn’t reply.

“ _The choice is simple. Prove that my son is not your prisoner, or be destroyed._ ”

I’m about to suggest to simply let them search the building, until I remember that I am, actually, in the building.

“How much longer?” Percy asks, and Sim replies through gritted teeth: “I just have to relocate the signal.”

“ _What will it be?_ ” Father asks.

“ _We don’t have him_ ,” Aldajah insists.

“ _That was your last chance._ ” Then, to his crew, “ _Prepare the weapons._ ”

My heart skips a beat. I dart to the window, pressing myself against the glass. Every weapon in sight—and there are a _lot_ of those—is charging up, starting to glow with the power they’re collecting, all of it aimed at us, and I feel as though I might faint.

“I– I don’t understand,” I stammer. “They _know_ I’m in here. Why are they– Why would they–?”

“Montague!” Sim suddenly snaps. “Get in front of the camera! We’re doing this now!”

I’m frozen in place, so caught up on _Why would Father-? Why would_ _–_ _How could_ _–_ _?_ that I barely hear her. A hand grabs my arm and I’m shoved toward the crates where I was sitting earlier. Percy’s eyes meet mine for barely a second, terror all over his features and our bond, before he steps back and leaves me alone to stare into the unblinking eye of the camera. Sim slams a button, and a third screen pops up beside Father and Aldajah.

Me.

I’m looking at the back of the screens so I see the three images mirrored: me, looking disoriented, and Father and Aldajah, both staring, wide-eyed.

 _Oh, God._ _This is it._ This is the part where I need to convince them not to blow us all up. The part where I talk us all out of this mess. I look in the camera. I blink. Open my mouth.

And I can’t remember a single goddamn word in the English language.

Or any other language, really.

 _Take a deep breath_ , a familiar voice in my head says. I drag my eyes away from the lens, up at Percy’s face. He gestures for me to breath. _In and out._

The first breath I take makes me feel like I might throw up. So does the second. And the third. But it’s getting less.

In. And out.

“ _Henry?_ ” Father’s voice, draped in dismay, pulls me out of my calm and I almost choke on my next breath. “ _What_ _–_ _Where are you?_ ”

I don’t respond. I can’t. I can barely breathe.

Sim gestures for me to start talking already, looking angry, but Percy carefully takes her wrists and lowers them. _Look at me_ , he says. _He’s not here. Talk as if he isn’t listening. You can do this._

 _What do I say?_ I ask, bordering on desperation.

“ _Henry_ ,” Father demands again, and it takes everything in me not to flinch.

“ _I don’t think he can hear you, sir,_ ” an off-screen voice tells him. “ _This isn’t a direct line, it’s being broadcasted in at least two dozen quadrants at once._ ”

“ _Track its source_ ,” Father says.

“ _Working on it, sir._ ”

I look at the camera again, and force myself to say something.

“Uhh.”

It’s not… much, but it’s a start.

“…Hi,” I say, half-smiling through my terror and waving a little at the camera. From my peripheral, I see Percy nodding. I take another breath. “Hi. My name’s Henry Montague, though you probably all know me.” This time, I can muster a more sincere smile. “Soooo. You probably all heard I was kidnapped today. Um. Yeah.”

Sim’s soundlessly saying something, but unfortunately, I cannot lipread, so I’m on my own. Well, Percy could help. I look at him in question.

 _Tell them someone else kidnapped you_ , he says.

Right. Okay. “You’re all probably wondered who kidnapped me. The answer may surprise you! It’s… definitely not the Crown and Cleaver, or–or any of the other rebel organizations. I mean _–_ they _are_ a rebel organization, of course, otherwise they’d have no reason to kidnap me, but it’s not any– any of the existing rebel organizations! I mean, of course they exist, otherwise they couldn’t have kidnapped me, but–”

Sim buries her face in her hands.

“Right. Sooo.” I’m still smiling broadly when I realize a kidnapping victim would logically be afraid in a situation like mine. Well. Too late for that. I carry on, “This new rebel group is called… uhh… What are you guys called again?”

I justify that by reasoning if I were actually being held at gunpoint and forced to say these things, that would be a sound question. Percy throws up his hands to say he has absolutely no clue, and Sim is still facepalming, so it’s up to me, I guess.

“They, uhh… well. They don’t have a name yet! They’re so new that they’re still looking for one. But they’re open to suggestions!”

Everyone’s gaping at me. On the screen, Father and Aldajah are too dumbfounded to speak. Sim has her palms together pressed to her lips, seemingly going through the five stages of grief in less than a second, and Percy’s grimacing. He still tries for an awkward smile, though, giving me a thumbs up.

“…Yes! But. They are very serious about overthrowing the Empire.” _Keep talking, keep talking, keep talking_ _–_ “Aaaand today they’ve started on that by kidnapping me! That’s right. So a pretty good start in my eyes, no? Um. Anyway. They, uhh…” I look at Percy. _What else do they make you say in these sort of things?_

 _Their demands?_ Percy offers.

“Right. They demand… ransom! One hundred… uh… billion pounds. All untraceable, of course. And that’s just for starters!” I’m really going now, and sort of enjoying myself. “And, uh… Three of your best spaceships! ‘Cause they’re still getting started and you can’t overthrow the Empire in a tin can, right?” I grin broadly. “Oh, and they also want… what’s it called again?” I lean toward the camera, frowning, as if the people behind are actually feeding me this speech. The actual people behind the camera are looking as though they would rather jump into a black hole than be here right now. Very well, then. Up to Henry Montague to save the day. I turn back to the camera, “The… Goblet of… Nebulas. Yes. Oh, and throw in the Crown Jewels, the Holy Grail, and a few pizza’s while you’re at it. One large pepperoni for me, and… what are you guys taking?”

Percy very unsubtly makes it clear I need to wrap up.

“The pizzas were a joke, unfortunately,” I say, with a sour glance in Percy’s direction. “But they still want the other things. And they should be delivered… um…” _Name a planet!_ I think quickly.

 _Orion 57-R,_ Percy replies.

“On Orion 57-R,” I continue. “On this day, at this hour, in…” What would be a reasonable time limit for the requests I’ve mentioned? “…three months. Yes. You’ll hear from us again, soon, with further instructions. So. Uh. Bye!”

Sim is still not looking me in the eye when she hits another key on her keyboard to end the stream, and almost collapses against the table. Percy’s also looking rather mortified.

“I think that went well,” I say.

Neither of them reply.

“ _What…_ charade _is this?_ ”

It’s Father. He’s looking rather indignant.

“ _Looked like a ransom video to me_ ,” Aldajah replies dryly, and anger flares up in Father’s eyes. It strikes my already very fragile nerves rather painfully.

“ _Are we to take this as proof you haven’t got him?_ ” Father spats. “ _Because some_ unnamed rebel group _supposedly does?_ ”

“ _Yes._ ”

“ _How do we know this isn’t something you’ve set up_?”

“ _We’ve located the broadcast, sir._ ” It’s the off-screen voice on Father’s side again. “ _It’s coming from the Lilium system, quadrant 56c._ ”

Father looks as if he still isn’t convinced—and, honestly, after my little performance, I can’t blame him—but seems out of arguments. “ _Send a few units over there_ ,” he tells him, and then turns back to the screen. “ _Well, Mr Aldajah, it seems the rebels live to cower another day. But don’t be mistaken. If this is some kind of trick, I_ will _make you pay for it._ ”

“ _Good thing it isn’t, then._ ”

And with that, Father’s screen vanishes. The next moment, so does Aldajah’s.

Sim, Percy and I let go of a breath we were collectively holding. I realize my legs are rather weak, so I just carefully lower myself onto the floor, my back sliding down against the crate. My vision swims for a second.

“I can’t believe they actually bought that,” Percy says, sounding out of breath.

“They didn’t buy it,” Sim replies, and my very brief moment of pride passes. “The Emperor just didn’t have another choice.”

Percy walks back over to the window. “They’re leaving.”

Good _God_. I pull my knees to my chest, folding my arms around them and resting my head. My heart’s beating so fast I can barely hear myself think. I take a few deep breaths, trying to convince myself that I am actually going to survive this day.

Or, at least, not get blown up by an armada of spaceships.

“You all right?”

I look up. Percy’s standing next to me, looking both as if he wants to reach out and as if he wants to flee the room. And I agree with him: both of those are terrible options.

I wipe my brow with the back of my hand, and realize I’m actually sweating. “Fine.”

He nods. Hesitates, as if he wants to say something else. Then turns away from me.

Sim is busy cleaning up the set-up. “So. What’s your plan now?” she asks Percy. Her tone implies she knows fully well he does not have a plan.

Percy leans back against a few shelves, then pulls back when they wobble rather dangerously. “I…” He runs a hand through his hair. Then he seems to realize something, and looks at Sim. “… You’re… You mean…?”

“I can’t hand you out at this point,” she says, jaw clenched. “I’m in too deep myself now.”

Percy lets his head fall forward, chin against his chest. “It’s fine,” he says quietly. “I won’t tell them you were involved.”

Sim stops rolling up the cables. She’s looking torn, but her eyes soften. “Admit it. Say this is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” Percy mutters.

“I’m glad we agree on that. Now.” She puts the folded tripod against a wall. “You two are going to lie low for _at least_ a month. Don’t tell anyone, no matter how much you think you can trust them. You–” she points at me, “–wear that mask 24/7. Don’t let _anyone_ catch you. If you two manage to last a month, we’ll talk about further course of action. Understood?”

“Yes,” Percy and I both say. While I am thinking _God, a_ month _? I’m to be stuck here for at least a_ month _?_ _,_ I’m far too tired to argue, and my hands are still trembling. I wonder what time it is. This day seemed to have lasted a goddamn week.

“Go get some rest, the both of you,” Sim says. And with that, she leaves the room.

Percy and I don’t speak or move for some time. I’m too bloody exhausted and with his fatigue added to mine, I don’t think I can stand. So I sit there, briefly realizing I’m starved but I’d rather go to sleep on an empty stomach than putting in the additional effort of finding something to eat.

I’m almost starting to doze off, when Percy suddenly stands up. “Let’s go,” he says.

I half expect him to help me on my feet, but he’s already at the door. So I stand up, unaided. I’m sore all over and I can’t for the life of me understand why. I pass him by at the door and he turns off the lights behind me, avoiding my eyes.

“What? No thank you?” I say.

He doesn’t reply, just starts walking.

_Ugh. Fantastic._


	4. The Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaand we're back! apologies for the brief delay, i took some time off for school and to outline this fic. but with that out of the way, updates should be more frequent now! uhh. should.

If you’d have told me this morning that right now, I’d be — unbeknownst to the Crown and Cleaver — a hostage of the Crown and Cleaver, and that finally meeting my soulmate would ( instead of the dream I’d always imagined it to be ) somehow still manage to be the biggest disaster of the day, I’d have said you were mad.

I haven’t yet abandoned all hope that this is merely a bad dream and I will wake up, safe and sound, in my own bed, entirely unconflicted in loving my soulmate. Though I suppose for that I’d have to fall asleep first. Which is, between these itchy sheets and Percy’s emotional turmoil reaching me even across the room, not very likely.

_Ugh._

I sit up and try to fluff my pillow, which is hopeless, given that it’s really no thicker than a sheet. I’m never getting comfortable here. Before lying back down, I sneak a look at Percy, in the opposite bed and with his back turned to me. He hasn’t moved in half an hour, but I know he’s still awake.

I sigh dramatically, just to make sure he knows just how pissed I am at this entire situation, and turn back to the wall.

The location I am to lie low, at least for tonight, turned out to be Percy’s bedroom. (My tasteful remark about that has been rudely ignored.) It is, by my most precise approximations, tiny, and somewhat resembles what quarters in pirate ships look like in pre-Supernova movies, except cleaner and with hints of wiring behind the boards. The room contains two beds: the right is Percy’s, the left, until further notice, is mine. It apparently previously belonged to Percy’s former roommate, who had moved out a few weeks prior to move in with his girlfriend. That is quite literally the only information that has been (begrudgingly, after my questioning) shared with me. Percy had gone to bed right away, without even changing clothes. I’m not sure if I find that ridiculous, or just plain petty.

His annoyance at the situation only fuels mine, and I’m pretty sure we’re creating some sort of echo chamber like this. And really, what _is_ his problem with me? _He’s_ the lawless rogue here, not me. And for the record, _he_ kidnapped _me_ , but I still agreed to help him, and this is how he’s reacting? Bullshit. Even if we’d just be complete strangers, two random people from opposite sides of the galaxy who’d only met by chance—he still should’ve showed some gratitude, but as my soulmate…

Across the room, Percy shifts.

Ugh. It just doesn’t make any _sense_. My soulmate is the kindest, gentlest, most patient soul in the whole galaxy. Now, I’m not that bad, but I do know I haven’t always been the best company, but he’s always stuck by me. Through thick and thin, through all my bad days, through every reckless decision and escapade and every conversation with Father. Refusing to accept my apologies and telling me my father was wrong and trying to convince me I deserved better. Maybe it’s just the hour and the fatigue but… I’m not the easiest person to have as a soulmate. I haven’t got much to offer in return for his kindness.

But he never held it against me. Quite the opposite. As much as it feels like defying gravity to say it, too amazing to be true, he… he cared about me. Without a shadow of a doubt, he cared about me. Always has, and only more as the years went by. That was one of the few things I’ve always been sure about.

Or at least, I was, until… today.

Percy shifts again, clearly as sleepless as I am. I resolve to ignore him in any way that I can, at the very least as payback. I’m about to go back to mentally listing all the reasons why this day is the absolute worst (perhaps “accidentally” via our connection), when there’s a rustling of fabric behind me and Percy says, voice wobbly with sleep but still strained: “Could you stop… being so fucking tense? I can’t sleep.”

That, however, is a bridge too far.

I turn around to face him, propping myself up on an elbow. “Oh, _I’m_ sorry. This is all my fault, obviously. What do I even have to be tense about? Absolutely in no way did you fucking cause this. Not being able to sleep is such a gigantic problem compared to the fact that I’m _kidnapped_.”

Even in the half-dark, I can see the way his jaw sets and his eyes narrow. He clearly regrets speaking up, but I’m not about to start caring an awful lot about his _feelings_ . Actually, I decide that I’ve been compliant enough. _I_ have leverage over him, too, and it’s about time I start using it.

I sit up. “You know what? I’ve had it. You’re going to make a deal with me, right now, or I swear I’ll run out of here and tell everyone I can find what you’ve done.”

He keeps his composure well, but he’s forgetting that I can feel the twinge of panic that goes through him. “You can’t,” he says carefully, expression disguised by the dark. “You don’t know what they’d do to you.”

“I’m willing to take that risk,” I say, much braver than I’m feeling. Then I add, slowly, “Are you?”

I try to pace my heartbeat, which is quite literally impossible, but I have to. Bluffing against someone who literally knows your inner emotions, no matter how far you try to shove them away, is a considerable challenge. But it’d be a false modesty and a lie to claim I’ve never pulled off any risky gambles in my life.

Though they usually involve cards and money instead of life and death.

…Life and death perhaps being a little dramatic.

He watches me for a long moment, gauging how reckless I’m feeling tonight, before dropping his head in surrender. He sits up straight, putting his feet down on the ground. I mirror his movements (and, I swear to God, I get a splinter the second my foot hits the floor) so we’re properly face to face.

“What do you want?” he asks. “I’m not taking you back. I can’t.”

“Why not?”

One corner of his mouth tugs up into a humorless smirk. “Right. You’re definitely not going to sell us out as soon as you get back.”

“Course not.” I… honestly have no idea what I’d do if— _when_ _—_ _I_ get back. Were things any different, I’d have snitched on the rebels in a heartbeat. Especially if they’d kidnapped me. Might even make me something other than a burden to Father for once in my goddamn life. I’m not naive enough to think he’d be proud of me—but I’ll take anything better than “useless” and “a waste of space”.

But that scenario doesn’t account for one of the aforementioned rebels being my damn soulmate.

Honestly, it shouldn’t make a difference. He’s a criminal, just like the rest of them—he _chose_ the outlaw life. And it’s not like it’d kill him (though I must admit that thought makes me feel a bit nauseous), he’d probably just spend the rest of his life in prison. He’d only have brought it upon himself, really. And he’d be okay. It wouldn’t hurt me.

Although if my soulmate decided to never speak to me again… it might actually kill me.

But given that that dilemma is too difficult to solve right now, and that the odds of him letting me go if I’d admit I’d hand him out are infinitesimal, I say, “I could stick to the lie of another rebel group having kidnapped me.”

He gives me a skeptical look.

Another lie it is, then. “I’ll claim I don’t remember a thing. That you guys wiped my memory.”

Percy shakes his head. “You won’t even have to say a thing. They’ll know it was us, and we’ll be taken out. I can’t– I won’t let that happen.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

He runs a hand through his hair. He never undid his ponytail, but more and more strands are escaping from it. “You stay here until I’ve found a way to return you to the Empire that doesn’t involve the Crown and Cleaver being destroyed. That’s your end of the bargain.”

I lean back, pretending to consider this. “What do I get in return?”

He shrugs. “My promise that you won’t be harmed as long as you’re here.”

“Not tortured? Locked up? In any way mistreated?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll make sure no one insults me? Or even looks at me badly? Can I ask you to do stuff for me and you’ll do it?”

He regards me a moment. I have the strange sense he’s biting back something resembling a smile. “Don’t push it.”

“Aw.”

“So it’s a deal?” He holds out a hand. “I make sure you can go home without a scratch at the end of all this, and–”

“And I let you use me as leverage so you rebels can… make the Empire leave you guys alone, or surrender, or self destruct, or whatever it is you rebels want.”

He frowns at me. “And you’re… okay with that?”

“I’m setting up this deal in _your_ advantage, darling. Don’t make me change my mind.”

“No, I mean…” He shakes his head. “Shouldn’t you _not_ want us to overthrow the Empire?”

“I guess?” I don’t particularly care, if I’m being honest. I mean, I’d prefer the Empire to be _not_ overthrown, but I’m not particularly worried. “I’m just saying you shouldn’t underestimate my father. I’m not worth more to him than what he spent twenty-five years building.”

I regret it the instant I say it. Not that I don’t know what I said is true. I regret it because these are not normally things one admits out loud, and I regret it because of the shift in Percy’s expression. An emotion goes through him, something I do not want to label as pity.

For God’s sake, this whole day has my head all scrambled up.

“But hey, you never know,” I quickly add. Quickly moving out of reach of his compassion—because that would just be painful for the both of us. I clear my throat. “And if your plan fails I promise I’ll never come visit you in jail. Now, do we have a deal?”

The softness vanishes from his eyes. That had been my goal, but it still hurts, in a way. He rights his back. His outstretched hand had faltered, but now he places it between us again. “Works for me.”

I watch it for a moment, leaning back. I don’t know why. I think I mentioned the most important things, though I must admit I’m a little bit too tired to properly think this through. “One more thing,” I say, because apparently I enjoy making this all so much worse for myself. I meet his eyes. “You don’t get to be a jerk to me the entire time. It’s your fault I’m here, not mine. So don’t be so sour on me, darling. I promise I’m wonderful once you get to know me.”

He curls up his outstretched hand into a fist, pulling back, as if that might genuinely be a bridge too far. He tries to disguise the motion, biting his lip. His eyes faintly reflect the soft light that the wires occasionally emit, like a pulse. My words still hang in the air between us, unnecessarily heavy.

_I promise I’m wonderful once you get to know me._

And then he says to me telepathically, so faintly I’m not sure he knows I can hear him, _That’s what I’m afraid of._

“Fine,” he says aloud. “I’ll try, put no promises.”

I give him my widest smile and snatch his hand to shake it before he can pull away again. “Then we have a deal.”

The contact seems to surprise him a little. Even when I let go, he’s still staring at his hand. I pretend to ignore it and instead lie down, turning him my back.

“Deal,” he says quietly. He hesitates, then I hear him lying down again as well. Then, after a while, he adds, “Do try and stay out of trouble while you’re here.”

I laugh. “You’ve known me longer than today, darling.”


	5. Breakfast

I’m awoken by a feeling of dilemma. It buzzes around in my head like an insect I can’t swat away. So I do the next best thing: I roll onto my other side and pull the blankets up to my ears. I vaguely note that this bed is endlessly less comfortable than my bed at home, but I’m tired enough that I’m willing to ignore that for a few more hours of sleep.

Except the feeling persists.

After a while, I sit up, and the person who’s been standing next to my bed starts.

“ _God_ ,” Percy says, out of breath. “Were you pretending to sleep?”

“Were you _watching_ me sleep?” I whisper back. I’m not sure why we’re whispering, but he started it, and with the room still dark, it feels appropriate.

“No,” he defends, then, awkwardly, “I just… wasn’t sure if I could wake you up.”

“What time is it?”

“Nine thirty.”

“Nine–” I gawk at him. “No, you’re right, you can’t wake me up. _Goodnight_.” I pull up the blankets brusquely and lie down again, my back to him.

No lights have been lit, which only furthers my conviction that—as my exhaustion claims—it is actually still the middle of the bloody night. My eyes are burning with sleep, and even the soft glow of the wires in the wall worsens a building headache. Outside, behind the shut door, there’s muffled voices and footsteps, implying other people are awake, too. They’re all out of their mind. And Percy still hasn’t moved, goddammit. I’m not going to be able to sleep like this.

But I refuse to get up to deal with this horrible situation I have stumbled into. No, thank you very much.

“Breakfast ends in half an hour,” he then says.

I roll onto my back. “At _ten in the morning_? What kind of barbaric custom is this?”

“When would you rather have breakfast? Three in the afternoon?”

“At _earliest_.”

Percy scoffs. “Well, I’m going.”

“Well, goodbye.” I close my eyes, turning my head away perhaps a bit too dramatically to be convincing. Whatever. I don’t care.

Percy takes one step toward the door, then stops. “But you’re hungry.”

“I’m tired, also, so why don’t you go eat something for the both of us, darling?” I turn him my back again.

I feel him glaring at me for a moment longer. Then he makes a decision, and I know I’m not going to like it even before he says it.

“No. Get out of bed. You’re hungry and that’ll keep bothering me even if I eat. I still have things to do today.”

I groan, throwing the blanket off me with great reluctance. While he puts on his jacket, I sit up and rub my eyes. “You’re violating our deal, you know.”

“Am I?” he says noncommittally, his back to me.

“We agreed no torture.”

“Because I’m dragging you out of bed?”

“At _nine thirty_. You monster.”

He scoffs. It seems like annoyance, but it could be amusement.

  
  


Ten minutes later I arrive in a gigantic hall. It’s made out of wood mixed with technology, as everything else is here, except instead of the straight lines and perpendicular angles I’ve seen so far, here the walls is curved, as if the ceiling is a hollowed-out hull of a ship turned upside down. Solid pillars to support its weight are placed at set distances between long dinner tables with benches on both sides. Against one wall, a long, similar table stands, filled with food, plates, cutlery, and so on.

There’s about a hundred people inside, though the sheer capacity of the whole thing implies it’s built to house at least five times as much.

I follow Percy to the buffet tables and mimic him as he takes a plate. He doesn’t pay me any mind as I frown at the bowls and trays, trying to decide what looks most edible.

“Where can I get something to drink?” I ask after a while, reluctantly putting something that I hope is bread on my plate.

Percy nods at a space filled with jugs and bottles. “Right over there.”

“No, I mean, a drink of the alcoholic variety.”

I needed a drink at the anniversary yesterday, and I _definitely_ need one now. Everything going on took it off my mind for a couple hours, but if I want to get through an entire day of living among rebels while being on God knows how few hours of sleep—it’s the least I can ask.

Percy looks at me, face unreadable. “There isn’t any,” he then says. “It’s breakfast.”

“And?”

He’s already moving on, pretending he can’t hear me. I roll my eyes.

With a mostly empty plate and (thankfully) at least a cup of coffee, I follow him through the hall. We sit down at the corner of a table, removed from any other groups, without a word.

I stare down at my plate through the little holes in my mask (which is heavy, for the record, and itches and makes my ears hurt and smells bad), then at Percy. “How am I supposed to eat?”

He looks up, swallowing the food he was chewing, and it takes him a solid five seconds to figure out what the problem is. “I don’t know,” he then says. “Maybe tilt the mask up a little?”

Which is, admittedly, an okay suggestion, but the point of the question was to remind him exactly how much I’m suffering to help him keep up this ruse. A goal, in my opinion, I have not yet achieved. “What if someone _sees_?”

Percy briefly glances around over his coffee. “There’s no one looking.”

I do a quick and subtle scan of the surroundings as well, and begrudgingly have to conclude he’s right. “I guess,” I shrug, pushing up the mask and picking up something resembling a bread bun from my plate.

There’s a _blip!_ , and out of absolutely nowhere, a girl appears behind Percy. She puts a hand on his shoulder. “Percy! I thought I spotted you.”

“Good morning, Jeanne,” Percy says. He doesn’t even start, just glances up and gives her a smile. I jumped so badly I dropped my bun.

The new arrival looks around my age. She’s thin, and unnaturally pale, with blonde hair in a ribboned braid and an unusually long neck. She’s downright gorgeous, but there’s something about her a bit off, but I can’t place it until I notice the marks on her skin, glowing faintly blue.

“Who’s this?” she asks, in the middle of stealing something off Percy’s plate and taking a bite out of it. She’s looking at me. I’m so tired I can’t even remember the fake name Percy made up for me last night, but fortunately I don’t have to answer.

“This is Monty,” Percy says, not looking at me. “I picked him up yesterday.”

“Ooh, new recruit!” She slides into the seat next to him. “Why is he wearing that?”

“He had an accident.”

I’m getting kind of pissed they’re talking over my head like I’m some kind of idiot, so I sit up and say, “Yes. A dreadful accident.”

Jeanne finally turns to me, a little surprised I’ve spoken, but now I have her full attention. She leans on one fist as she chews. I realize I have absolutely no idea how I’m going to continue my story. “Er… I don’t really wanna talk about it. It was very heroic, though. Took a dozen men to take me down.”

She looks impressed, and I instantly feel better. “Really? Who?”

“Uhh…” What would sound like a reasonable attacker to a rebel? “… The… Empire…?”

Her expression melts in understanding—and… pity? Oh, _God_ _—_ and she reaches across the table to put a small, delicate hand overtop of my arm. “I’m so sorry,” she says.

Percy makes a show of looking away.

“But hey!” She perks up. “You’re with us now. No safer place to hide from the Empire than here. Well, except yesterday. I still don’t understand what that was all about.” She turns to Percy. “You hear anything new?”

He shakes his head, taking one of those medicine containers out of his pockets and putting it down on the table. “No more than you know. I just got a call to come in early, and we all saw the broadcast.”

Jeanne frowns. “Were you out?”

Percy shrinks back a little further. “Uhh, yeah. Restocking mission.”

“I didn’t hear about that.”

 _Ah, entertaining._ I take a sip from my coffee (which is vile, but I’ll take what I can get) and lean back.

Percy shoots me an indignant look. _We are on the same side here._

_Are we?_

“Yeah,” he starts out loud. “I didn’t know about it either, but we suddenly ran out and, uhh… Scipio asked me if I could drop by M-78 real quick to pick some things up.”

“Oh. Right.” She looks at me. “Is that where you picked him up?”

“Yes. No. Well. Sort of. I got a distress signal from one of its moons, and… Yeah.”

 _Maybe we should’ve agreed on a decent story in advance, instead of letting you improvise_ , I say, watching him struggle in search of a lie. _Since you’re so terrible at it._

Jeanne frowns, then pulls back her hand. “Wait. You just picked up some random guy and brought him here?” Her eyes move between the both of us, seeds of distrust planted. “That’s… against procedure.”

“Yes, that would seem suspicious at first glance,” Percy says, looking me dead in the eye. “But the way Monty will tell you his story, you’ll be convinced right away.”

My mouth falls open and I gape at Percy (which Jeanne fortunately can’t see). _Don’t put this on me! We’re_ both _at stake here!_

 _Exactly_ , Percy replies, looking away as he puts a pill in his mouth and tips his head back to swallow it with some water. There's a hint of a smile on his lips. _But since I am so terrible at improvising, I figured it’d be best to leave it to your lying skills._

I am insulted beyond words. _Et tu?_

I realize Jeanne is still watching me, eyes narrowed, mouth a fine line. I sit up with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. “Yes! Of course! It’ll all make perfect sense. So, uhh, there I was, on that moon. The moon of… that planet. And I saw a ship approaching so I…” I cannot find a good end to my sentence, so I shrug, in a way that I hope conveys _obviously_.

Jeanne is anything but convinced. “Why were you on that moon? How did you get in trouble with the Empire?”

“Um. It’s a bit of a touchy subject.”

“I see.” Jeanne crosses her arms. “But I’m sure at the very least the Commodore knows you’re here, right?”

I look at Percy.

 _He does not_ , he says, words laced with panic, _and we don’t want him to find out._

“On second thought,” I amend loudly, “It’s not actually that touchy. You see, it all started when…” _Help me out here! What kind of tragic backstories do you rebels usually have?_

 _We don’t have_ tragic backstories, Percy says curtly.

_Well, I’m going to need one, so you better help me out here. This is your problem, not mine._

_It’s both our problem._

_Exactly!_ I’m losing my temper. _So could you just_ _–_ “ – stop acting like a prick and help me! We’re in this together, whether you like it or _not_.”

Percy’s staring up at me, wide-eyed, and I realize I’ve stood up. Jeanne’s also looking. “What did you just say?” she asks.

 _Say?_ _I said that out loud?_

 _You have,_ Percy says, unhelpfully.

“N-nothing,” I stammer, sitting back down, but it’s too late. I can see Jeanne thinking, watching the pieces click behind her eyes. Then she locks me in her gaze with an intensity that makes me flinch. “You’re eighteen?”

That… was not the question I was expecting. “…Yes?”

“Born in… wait. January, three months younger _–_ in April?”

 _How does she know that?_ “Yes?” Then it hits me. _She figured out I’m the Prince!_

 _She can’t have_ , Percy says, but he’s repressing panic as much as I am.

Then, strangely, her expression turns into delight. “You two were talking, just then.” She grabs onto Percy’s arm and says, grinning broadly, “You found your soulmate!”

And Percy goes bright red.

I sigh in relief. “Yes! Correct!”

Percy sends me a glance, though I can for the life of me not figure out why—it’s only the truth.

Jeanne takes my hand between the both of hers and shakes it, smiling broadly. “So nice to meet you! I’m Jeanne, though you probably figured that out by now.” She laughs, a delightful sound. “I’m so glad you’re here! We’ve all been rooting for Percy, really, if there’s anyone who deserved to meet his soulmate, it’s him.”

Percy buries his face in his arms, embarrassment radiating off of him.

“You could’ve just told me, you know,” Jeanne tells him, nudging his arm. She laughs again. “Instead of making me to think you accidentally picked up a spy or something!”

We both flinch.

“It really isn’t a big deal,” Percy mutters.

“What! Of course it is!” Jeanne turns to me. “He talks about you all the time.”

At that, Percy’s head snaps up. “I do not.”

“I see,” I say, delighted.

“I really, really don’t.”

Aha, awkwardness. Now this—this I can work with. I sit up, resting my head on one hand. “Ah, but your friend here knew about me, didn’t she? Not only that, she knew you’re three months older than I am, and who knows how many other charming anecdotes you shared. Now how would she find out about that?”

Percy can tell how much I’m enjoying this, and he hates it, which only improves the experience for me. “Look, people here know I’m Linked because it’s useful for some missions, and that’s only one step removed from knowing _how_ I’m Linked. Also, some people don’t know when to _mind their own business_.” That last part is directed at Jeanne, but she’s just leaned back, Percy’s plate pulled toward her and munching.

“Excuses, excuses.” I give him my most annoying grin (which he can’t see, but I’m sure the sentiment comes across) and resume my teasing. “Though I can’t really blame you, really. I’m amazing. Why wouldn’t you want to talk about me?”

“He definitely talks about you like you put the stars in the sky,” Jeanne confirms, and I high five her.

“I like you,” I tell her.

She nods. “I’m awesome.”

“That’s it.” Percy stands up. “Come on, Monty, we’re leaving.”

I shrug apologetically at Jeanne.

“See you around!” she waves at me.

Percy suddenly stops and turns back to face Jeanne. “Don’t tell everyone, okay?”

She nods earnestly. “I’m going to tell everyone.”

“No–”

But she’s already disappeared with a _blip!_ Percy buries his face in his hands.

“Teleporter?” I ask.

Percy doesn’t reply. “We’re going to need to come up with a decent cover story,” he says instead, as we start heading toward the exit. “Not everyone is going to drop the subject like Jeanne did.”

As if summoned, there’s another _blip!_ behind us, and then Jeanne calls, “Oh, and Scipio’s looking for you! It’s about the big search mission from this afternoon. I think you’ll find him at the docks!”

She’s gone again when we turn.

  
  


The docks are much quieter than they were upon our arrival here yesterday. Still, a few dozen people are about, carrying boxes and working on ships and talking to one another. Percy’s beelining for something, and I’m okay just to follow him and take in the sights. He’s peeved. My mood, however, has significantly improved.

“There’s Scipio,” Percy says, waving at a man from across the aisle. We head over and join him at the foot of what I believe is the ship we arrived in yesterday. I’m trailing behind a little.

“Percy!” Scipio calls, putting down some heavy-looking metal thing and wiping his hands on a piece of cloth he has slung across his shoulder. “Did Jeanne pass on my message?”

“She did,” Percy confirms. “Did the ship need any repairs? I didn’t notice anything wrong.”

Scipio shrugs. “Just fuel. Checked this morning and she had less light years in her than I thought. Weird, though. I only fully refueled her yesterday morning.”

Percy flinches a bit.

Scipio shrugs and gives the metal behind him an affectionate pat. “Ah, she’s not as durable as she was twenty years ago. But that happens to the best of us.” He laughs heartily.

Percy smiles. “Jeanne mentioned something about a search mission?”

“Yes.” Scipio nods, folding the piece of cloth and tossing it aside. “We’re looking for an escape pod. I’ll give you the full explanation on the way when the others get here. But it’s Linked, so…”

Percy nods. “No problem. I’ll help out.”

The man claps him on the shoulder with a big grin. “I knew I could count on you. We’re leaving in thirty minutes, so if you could-”

Then he spots me.

I realize I’m standing at a bit of a distance, so I quickly cross the final few feet.

“This is Monty,” Percy introduces me. “He’s new.”

“…I see.” Scipio watches me for a moment with an unreadable expression, running a hand over his beard. “Well,” he then settles on, “the name’s Scipio.”

He offers me a hand and I almost flinch back. Which is beyond ridiculous, but I wasn’t expecting it, and he’s rather tall, and—it doesn’t matter. I’m pretty sure I was able to hide it, anyway.

When I look to my side, I can tell Percy noticed it, though.

I shake his hand, pulling back quickly. “Monty,” I say, even though Percy already said that.

Scipio’s eyes linger on me for a second longer. “Interested in joining us on our mission, Monty?”

“Mission?” I say, even though I’m pretty sure that’s already been explained. Scipio just nods. I hesitate. “I… don’t think I’d be able to be much help.”

“You got at least one working eye behind that mask?”

“…Yes.”

“Then you can help.” Scipio smiles. “It’s a search mission. You don’t need any special skills. Although…” Somehow, I feel like he’s acting having something suddenly occur to him. “You wouldn’t happen to be Linked, would you?”

“He is,” Percy says reluctantly.

I turn to him. “I am?” Then, because maybe that’s something a rebel would logically know about themselves, I repeat, _I am?_

_You are._

_What’s ‘Linked’?_

Scipio’s looking between us, which I think might be for show. “Ah, how convenient. Linked how, if I may ask?”

Percy regards the man right back. “He has a soulmate,” he says carefully.

Scipio nods. “I see, I see. Very well! You should definitely come along, then. We need all the Linked we can get! It’s a perfectly safe mission, too, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He flashes me a smile. “Percy, why don’t you go check if everything’s operational inside the ship?”

Oh. Oh _no._

 _He’s trying to speak to you in private_ , Percy says in alarm.

_I figured!_

We’re both looking at each other, unsure of what to do. I’m a little terrified, actually. _Is he going to murder me?_

 _What? No, of course not._ He has the nerve to find that funny. _It will probably be pretty bad, though._

 _Bad how?_ I’m panicking a little now, and Percy’s already climbing up the ladder. _Don’t leave me. We made a deal!_

 _Oh,_ you’ll _be fine_ , he says. Whatever that means. I’m not feeling particularly reassured, but he’s already disappeared on the ship’s roof.

 _I’m not far_ , he then still adds.

I hear the latch, and then I’m alone. Well, there’s dozens of rebels about. But I’m not entirely sure if they’ll bat an eye about any murders happening, so that’s little comfort.

Scipio turns to me, looking earnest, and I start. I feel rather small, all of a sudden.

“Monty,” he says. “I need you to be honest with me.”

My heart skips a beat. I’m already glancing out of my peripherals at my surroundings, planning a possible escape route, taking a step back and hoping he doesn’t notice. “Uhh… sure?”

“Now, I’m not usually one to take to gossip. But whispers travel around here, so I hear a thing or two every now and then, and… There’s one particular rumor I want to talk to you about.”

Oh. Oh no. Oh nooooo.

He takes a deep breath. “Are you, or are you not…” Long, _long_ pause, “Percy Newton’s soulmate?”

…Oh.

My brain had been kindly providing me with a great many alternative and far more lethal endings to that sentence, so I’m a little dumbstruck. I blink. “…Yes?”

Scipio nods a few times to himself, then he veritably starts smiling. I have absolutely no idea what I should do.

 _What’s going on?_ Percy asks, sounding a little panicked.

 _He asked if I’m your soulmate_ , I explain.

 _God damn it. I knew Jeanne would’ve told him._ That part’s mostly to himself, then he asks me, _What did you say?_

_Uh, yes?_

_What?! Why?_

_Because it’s the truth? Why don’t you want people to know?_

Percy doesn’t reply, which is good, because Scipio takes that moment to give me such a firm pat on the shoulder I almost fall over. “Good. Good for him. Good for you both! Congratulations!”

He then shakes my hand again, and I’m a little confused but his enthusiasm is infectious, so I find myself grinning as well. Then he puts both his hands on my shoulders and grows serious, peering me in the eye. “Now. Monty. I am very happy for you both, and I’m sure you’ll be very happy together, but there is one thing you need to know. I’ve…” He hesitates, looking for the right word. “… _heard_ things about you.”

I blink, confused. “Just now? From Jeanne?” That could be bad.

“Also, yes, but I meant… from Percy. Especially these… _last_ few years.”

Oh. Oh no. That is _so much worse._ I must be looking horrified, because Scipio quickly amends, “There’s no need to feel bad! I promise. And you’re with us now! But I have to say…” He takes a deep breath. “Percy… hasn’t had the easiest life. He lost his parents when he was so young, in such unfortunate circumstances…” He shakes his head, pausing long enough for me to realize this is probably something Percy would _absolutely_ not want me to hear. But there is no escape. Scipio carries through, “I’ve known that boy since he was barely a year old. I’ve watched him grow up. He… He’s become like a son to me.”

I’m just nodding, not sure what else there is to do.

“And I care about him very much—and I’m sure you do too. But know this—if you _ever_ hurt him, in any way, I will personally make you regret it. Is that clear?”

I’m still nodding, significantly more mortified.

 _What’s he saying?_ Percy asks.

I blink. _I… I think he’s giving me one of those talks parents give their children’s partners._

Percy instantly floods with embarrassment. _Please tell me you’re joking._

 _I mean, I_ think _that’s what it is. I’ve never had one of these conversations before._

_What’s he telling you?_

_That if I ever break your heart he knows where to find me?_

_Oh my_ god.

Then Scipio’s expression breaks into a laugh. “But I’m sure that won’t be necessary. Now, let’s head inside, we’ll be taking off soon.”

He starts climbing the ladder. I follow about a minute later, still a little dazed. Percy’s waiting in the cargo hold, arms crossed, and blushing furiously.

“I am never talking to you again,” he tells Scipio.

“You’re talking to me right now,” Scipio replies, walking past him to the cockpit. “Monty tell you what I said, did he?”

“…Maybe,” Percy says. He crosses the space to whisper to Scipio (even though I can still perfectly hear it), “Did you have to do that? I can take care of myself, you know.”

“Ah. Can’t hurt to have someone else caring for you as well, though.”

At that, Percy softens. He lands a very soft punch on Scipio’s arm. “Don’t ever do it again.”

“No promises.”

“You’re the worst.”

“You _are_ talking to the person who lets you borrow the _Eleftheria_ on a regular basis.”

I walk toward them. Outside of the windshield, other ships are preparing for take-off.

Percy shrugs, rubbing one arm. When he speaks again, it’s more sheepish, like a child asking their parent for a favor. “Speaking of the _Eleftheria_ … Since we’re heading out on a mission anyway…”

Scipio quirks an eyebrow at him. “Yes?

“Can I fly?”

Scipio leans back in the chair, as if he’s considering it. “Oh, so you _do_ ask every now and then, hmm?”

“I ask every time!” Percy protests. “ _Almost_ every time. It’s still your ship.”

“Is she? I can’t even remember what the keys look like, if I’m being honest.”

“That’s an exaggeration.”

“I’m a little surprised you haven’t renamed her ‘ _Percy Newton_ _’_ _s Personal Private Ship_ ’ yet, actually.”

“This is slander.”

Scipio scrutinizes him for a moment longer, then he drops the act. He stands up and offers Percy the chair. “All yours.”

Percy grins broadly. He lets himself fall down into the chair, spins around one time, then pulls himself closer to the console. “What’s our destination, anyway?”

Scipio’s already crossed the cargo hold, one hand on the ladder’s bar. He pauses. “We’re headed for Versailles.”


	6. Versailles

The Museum System instantly strikes an impressive sight. It’s composed of two or three planets, orbiting two suns — one small, the other large, red, and dying. It’s mostly composed of debris the size of moons floating around, and a few artificial stations.

After a year or ten of the Empire’s reign, things had begun settling down. There were laws, and people to monitor those laws, and a monetary system and transport and jobs and all those things you need to build a society from the ground up. War at the fringes became more and more distant, people started feeling safe, and the Empire could permit itself some less vital occupations; a few pet projects to develop on the side, in the hope that one day leisure would once again become profitable and it could demonstrate just how well it was doing.

The Museum System was such a project. You see, while the Supernova had rendered the Earth uninhabitable, it hadn’t quite _destroyed_ it. All life was gone, but the artificial structures held up rather nicely. So one day the Empire decided that that offered a unique opportunity to preserve our history: take Earth’s most important monuments and turn them into a galactic museum.

Buildings, statues and structures from all over the world were selected, dismantled, transported a great number of light years and reassembled in this solar system. From the Eiffel Tower to the Statue of Liberty to the Great Pyramid of Giza, all of them carefully placed in space stations orbiting the suns—including our destination, the Palace of Versailles. The Museum used to be quite popular in its heydays, and I visited it once when Felicity and I were younger. Unfortunately, as tends to happen to one’s pet projects, the Museum System has been a bit neglected for the past few years, its funding cut and closed for repairs that are never going to happen.

That is the state we find the place in: abandoned, save for the rebel ships dropping out of hyperspeed and parting, each headed for their own separate destination. I’m leaning on the back of Percy’s chair, taking in the sights, as Percy guides the ship to where we’re headed. In the cargo hold, about a dozen people are chatting amicably. Scipio seems to know all of them, judging from how he greeted them when they climbed aboard. Right before we took off, Jeanne teleported aboard, and right now she’s laughing with some other girl. Another notable member of our little group is a boy who can’t be older than ten and whom they all call King George. He’s currently perched atop the armrest of Percy’s chair, listening big-eyed as Percy in a very gentle voice explains how he’s flying the ship. When he catches me looking, he smiles and says, _He asks me to explain that every time._

 _You must be a good storyteller, then_ , I reply.

He scoffs. _Don’t compliment me. We’re still enemies._

 _Aww. I suppose I shouldn’t mention that I like your voice, then? Or how beautiful your eyes are? Or how lovely your smile is_ _–_

 _Stop it!_ He’s flustered. Ah, excellent. I’m about to amp it up a little, when Scipio calls everyone’s attention. Percy turns the chair, and I almost fall over.

“All right, everyone…” He joins us in the cockpit, plugging something into a port and pulling up a screen. “ _This_ is what we’re looking for.”

The screen glitches for a moment, and then an image forms. I frown at it. It seems to be some sort of vessel, with engines in the back and a spherical windshield in the front.

“It’s an escape pod,” Scipio elaborates. “About as big as shown on screen. One of our other bases sent it out, and according to our best estimates, it very likely ended up in this system. And since the monuments are the biggest gravity-generators around, they’re our best shot.”

“What about the suns?” Percy asks. “I’ve counted at least a few planets, too.”

Scipio shakes his head. “If the pod ended up anywhere near those, it’s gone for good. Which would be bad, but the main thing is that we make sure it doesn’t fall into the Empire’s hands. So we search everything we can.”

Percy nods, leaning back. From the cargo hold, another man speaks up. “What’s in the pod, anyway?”

Scipio turns to face the screen, taking a deep breath. “Coordinates.”

“Coordinates of what?” I ask.

He regards me. “You know of the Supernova, yes?”

“Um, of course. Who doesn’t?” I look around, looking for support in my response to such an obvious question, but all I get is Percy giving me a look.

Scipio continues, “Do you also know what happened to the star that went supernova?”

I falter. “I…” I’d never even thought about that. “No? Wait, does it still exist?”

“Stars don’t just disappear,” Percy says. “Especially not after barely fifty years.”

“I guess.”

Scipio turns back to address the collective. “Most of you already know this. The base that sent out this pod was the one from the Solarium System. We installed it there after detecting gravity anomalies in the vicinity. Gravity anomalies so large it could only belong to a single star—or rather, what was left of it.”

I gape. “Wait. You guys _actually found it_? The star that went supernova? The Heart of the Universe?”

“Not quite.” He rubs the back of his neck. “But these theories at the very least suggested it’s still out there, and we had an approximation of a few million light years. So we set up a research facility that could narrow it down further, lead by the Robleses. It took them two years, but according to their last transition, they had calculated coordinates down to a few billion miles.”

I frown. “Then… Why are we looking for those coordinates here? In an escape pod?”

“The very same day they told us the news, we also received a distress signal. Turns out the Empire had been watching them as well. We should’ve known the line was bugged.” He sighs deeply. “By the time back-up got there, the whole base was destroyed. Valeria Robles had been able to escape with their son, but Mateu and his daughter were taken by the Empire.”

That doesn’t make any sense. “Why would the Empire do that?”

Percy sends me a warning glare, and I realize I probably shouldn’t have asked that out loud, but fortunately, Scipio misinterprets. “Robles is one of our best. I fear what information they’ll be able to get out of him.”

“But they don’t have the coordinates,” Percy says.

Scipio shakes his head. “No, thankfully. Robles was able to send out the pod at the last minute. And he paid for it severely.” He’s silent for a moment. “But that’s why we need to find it. We’ve been assigned Versailles, and we’re scouting every inch of that place. The pod contains Linked matter, so that should help.”

Everyone nods, then returns to their previous conversation. Percy turns back to the console. “There it is.”

I look out of the windshield. We’re slowly approaching what at first seems to be yet another piece of debris, but as we get closer, the shape grows more distinct. We pass through the artificial atmosphere. All I can see is the silhouette of a building, dark against the setting sun, until Percy turns on the headlights.

Somehow, it’s more impressive than I remember it to be. Versailles looms tall over us. It’s more worn, seemingly eaten away by hundreds of years instead of ten, and all the once brilliantly shimmering surfaces are dull and cracked. The only light comes from the ship and it distorts the palace’s baroque features into a setting of horror.

Horror perhaps being a bit too dramatic.

The ship touches down, and Percy turns off the engines. King George hops off the armrest and joins the others, as they gather their materials and climb out of the ship one by one.

I look up, at the atmosphere. It’s a pattern of hexagons, glowing faintly, though I notice there’s holes in it. “Um, is there even enough oxygen for us to be able to walk around?”

Percy taps some things on one of the dashboard screens, and a series of numbers that mean absolutely nothing to me pop up. “We should be fine,” he says. “I wouldn’t advise moving in here, but for a couple hours…”

We’re the last two to exit the ship. Everyone else is taking in the sights and distributing torches. Scipio clears his throat. “All right. I need about nine people to search the grounds and eight inside. The second floor might be rickety, so I want someone there who can get away easily if things would collapse. Jeanne? Esmee?”

Jeanne and the girl she’s been with the entire time nod.

“I’ve sent everyone a copy of the blueprints. Leave your trackers on in case you get lost,” he continues. “Stay away from any plants and other life forms you don’t trust. We’re meeting back up here in four hours. Georgie, you’re with me.”

I’m handed a torch, and Percy and I follow the group Scipio’s a part of, which is headed inside, apparently.

A once-tiled path now covered in moss muffles our footsteps as we follow it to the front door. In what used to be a fountain, there’s a scorch mark amid a circle of stones, implying we’re not the only living creatures who’ve paid a visit after the place was neglected. When we pass by some bushes, there’s skittering, and a group of bat-like creatures takes off, screeching loudly.

The building really is enormous. I’m craning my neck as I walk toward it, and it swallows up more and more of the night sky the closer I get. It’s decaying fast, completely overgrown with the weirdest plants I’ve ever seen. Green, blue, and indigo alien fauna and fungi cushion the palace at its foundations, slowly climbing up against the walls and in through the broken windows. Some plants glow faintly as we pass them by. The leaves gently sway on a non-existent wind.

The doors are already open, half torn off their hinges, and offer little resistance when pushed.

Inside, there’s an eerie quiet. Quiet in the way that feels as if the air is filled with sounds we can’t hear. It’s just as worn and overgrown as outside, a little humid, and mostly cold. One part of the roof is broken, and light of the setting sun softly pours in. On the floor in the middle of the entry hall lies a shattered chandelier.

We split up; Georgie goes with Scipio and some others to the west wing, Percy, I, and a few others take the east, while Jeanne and Esmee disappear up the stairs. One by one, our companions disappear into rooms and other hallways, until it’s just me and Percy, walking through the dusk. Percy’s projecting a floor plan from his communicator and studying that. I’m mostly trying not to trip over anything.

“Have you ever been here before it fell apart?” I ask after a while, studying my own reflection in a smudged mirror. I really do look awful with this stupid mask on my head.

“No,” Percy says. “You?”

“Yep. Not voluntarily, and I was pretty young. But it definitely looked different.”

We pass through some more rooms, almost tangibly haunted by everything that ever happened here. It doesn’t feel dangerous, though—more as if we’re spectators to a movie, separated from a story we could never be a part of.

“What was that stuff about that other base about, anyway?” I poke at an orb-shaped blue plant, and it turns purple. “That supposedly got attacked by the Empire?”

“It didn’t _supposedly_ get attacked,” Percy replies, sounding strained.

“But they didn’t get there until the thing was over, right? So how could they know?”

Percy sighs. I’m getting on his nerves. Good. “Valeria and Dante Robles _were_ there.”

“Well, yes, but how can they be sure? Did the ships have a big logo on them? Did their attackers wear name tags? Did they board the base and announce loudly, ‘ _We’re with the Empire_ ’–”

Percy pivots toward me. “Could you please just shut up?”

I pretend to consider that. “No,” I then say.

He glares at me for a moment, then stalks away.

I jog after him. “What would the Empire want with that star, anyway? I’m just pointing out that what you’re saying doesn’t make sense–”

Percy turns. “If you want the rest of your stay at the Crown and Cleaver to be in any way tolerable, I suggest you stop talking about what the Empire does and doesn’t, okay? And _stop_ following me around.”

He’s angrier than I bargained for, and his tone strikes a tender nerve in my heart. But I stand as tall as I can and cross my arms. “Fine. Whatever. I don’t need you. If I come across that stupid pod, I _won’t_ let you know.”

I walk away, pull open the nearest door with more force than necessary and slam it closed behind me. This new room is smaller than I anticipated, smaller than any of the rooms I’ve seen here before, actually.

I realize that I am, in fact, in a closet.

God damn it.

Well, I sure am committed to it now. I hold my breath and don’t move, listening attentively. After a moment, Percy calms himself, and walks away. I wait until I can’t hear his footsteps anymore. Then I carefully poke my head out of the door. He is, indeed, gone.

I exit the closet. This room in particular has three doors. I’m not sure which one Percy left through, so I play it safe and pick the door we came from. From the hallway, I choose a room at random to wander through, following doors and ignoring the fact that this tactic will probably get me lost.

I don’t even care anymore about their stupid mission. I’m not one of them, so why should I help? I’m just pretending. They’ve been nice, but if they knew who I was, they’d turn on me in an instant.

I’ve just decided to simply wander around until I get bored of it and hope we’ll start heading back home by then, when I arrive in a large and strangely well lit room. It takes my eyes some time to adjust. I look around, and realize part of the roof has collapsed here, too. Except it doesn’t look like decay. It’s a mostly round hole in the ceiling and the edges are dark, as if they were burned. I frown. I follow the sun beams back to the ground, and find similar damage on the floor. A path starts, tiles and plants pushed aside very recently, leading toward the wall, and–

Oh.

I clench my teeth. Of course _I_ had to be the one to find that goddamn escape pod.

It’s mostly buried in the floor and wall, sideways, with its windshield cracked and its engines still faintly smoking. The glass is dark enough that I can’t look inside, even when I step closer. It’s about three feet wide and five feet long, and I don’t think it has been here for a long time.

I stare at it. Should I alert the others? How, even. I don’t have a communicator. I could call Percy, of course, but he said he didn’t want me near him, so I guess I’ll fucking respect his wishes. And, again, _why_ would I even tell the rebels? They said it themselves—if the Empire found it, it’d be advantageous, and last time I checked, that’s still the side I’m on.

I decide to calmly walk away and pretend I never saw it. I put my hands in my pockets and turn around, heading for the next door, when I spot someone in the way. I jump.

“Shit.” I put a hand to my chest, catching my breath. “Didn’t see you there. I…” I look back at the escape pod. Ah. Well. Looks like it’s falling into the hands of the rebels after all. “I found the pod! I was just on my way to go fetch you guys.” I laugh.

The other doesn’t reply. I can’t really see them, since they’re coming from a room much darker than this one. I squint, letting my eyes adjust. “I, uhh…”

It slowly dawns on me this person was not aboard our ship and is _not_ a part of our group.

They finally step into the light, and my panic, which had been at a reasonable level just a second ago, skyrockets. I stumble back.

It’s a cyborg. Half his face is still skin but every other part I can see is metal, damaged but terrifying. He’s wearing a tattered longcoat, several belts full of weapons, and his eyes are little red lights in an emotionless face.

The image is completed when he pulls his gun at me.

I shriek and dive out of the way, behind a table that’s fallen over. The blast rattles me to my core and the flash is blinding. I’m not entirely sure I’ve survived it until it dies away, and even then, I barely dare to breathe. I look to my side. Where I’d been standing before, there’s a giant black spot on the floor and projected on the walls behind it, still smoking with the impact.

I hold my breath, convinced he’s going to blast the table next and I’ll be done for. I have no ways out—with the table in front of me, the wall behind, and the doors too far away, it’s hopeless. For a long, long time, there’s no sound at all, except the whirring of his weapon dying down from the blast.

What do I _do_?

_What’s going on? Why are you panicking?_

And I have never been so relieved to hear that voice in my head. _Well, I did just get shot at, so I think I’m allowed to be, darling._

_What?! By whom?_

The cyborg finally starts moving—away from me, thank God. I let the breath I was holding quietly escape. _A cyborg. I have no idea. I think he’s after the coordinates, too._

_Where are you? Are you safe?_

_Most certainly not._

_Can you get to safety?_

I want to reply with “no” right away, but I take another look around. The nearest door is a few feet away. I carefully peek over the edge of the table. The cyborg has his back turned, focused on the pod. _I might have a shot._

As quiet as I can and staying low to the ground, I move toward the edge of the table. I put down my hand on the floor for support–

A sharp pain goes through it. I pull it back with a yelp. There’s a cut in my palm, and blood is starting to well up fast. I curse internally. On the floor, where my hand was a moment previous, lies a mirror shard with a red edge.

Then I realize the cyborg has stopped moving.

There’s a suddenly _clank!_ against the table, and the next moment, it’s ripped away from me, crashing against the opposing wall and flying to pieces. I’m completely exposed. The cyborg is staring right at me, grappling gun in one hand, the weapon he almost disintegrated me with a moment ago in the other. He charges it again, and I scramble to my feet, but I slip on the shards and fall again, grasping at the wall that offers no [ grip ] , and my heart is pounding so loudly and my lungs are straining in my chest, and I can’t get away, I can only cower and think _Please, please I don’t want to die here_ _–_

When the hit comes, it’s from a completely different direction than I expected—then I realize it’s not a hit because it doesn’t hurt, it’s just two arms around me, and then it does hurt when my shoulder and hip collide harshly with the floor, and then the actual blast goes off and everything is noise and light, and I think I might die here after all.

The intensity of it all ebbs away slowly, with pounding hearts and heavy breathing, and my own panic echoed in the person next to me. I know it’s him before I look up—a familiarity I don’t even question. Percy’s still got his arms wrapped tightly around me, one hand pressing my head to his chest. I can hear his heartbeat. He slowly releases me, and I look up. The first thing I see is his face, focused and with a few cuts and—and freckles. I didn’t know he had freckles. Little stars under his warm eyes, eyes that now land on me. Worry in his brow. _Are you all right?_

_…I think so?_

We’ve landed behind the remains of a cabinet, hidden from view. We both sit up, pressing our backs to it, and then I spot the object in his hand—or rather, attached to some sort of armored glove around his hand. It’s a shield, translucent and faintly glowing. It’s large enough to protect his entire body, but it shrinks to about two feet square under my eyes. Percy peers over the edge of the cabinet.

 _It’s the pod_ , I say. _It’s over there._ _He’s_ _after it._

Percy’s mouth twitches into a tense line. _It’s the Duke._

I prop myself up to look as well. _Who?_

 _A_ _bounty hunter, working for the Empire_ , Percy says.

I want to remark that’s impossible because bounty hunting is illegal so logically this guy couldn’t be working for the Empire, but I’m honestly still a little dazed from almost dying and having my life saved by the person next to me, so I say nothing.

“We found the pod,” Percy whispers into his communicator, “but we’ve got company. It’s the Duke. We need back-up.”

We both watch the cyborg stop in front of the escape pod. He takes some tool from his belt, taps it to the windshield, and the glass shatters into a million pieces.

 _We can’t let him take it_ , Percy says.

_How are you planning to stop him? Do you also have one of those guns on you?_

_We just need to distract him._ He thinks it over. _Here_. Then he taps the inside of the hand that’s partially armored and has the shield attached. It clicks a few times, then lets go, and he takes it off. He takes my right hand, and I flinch.

He stares at the cut. _You’re hurt_ , he says.

 _It’s fine_. I pull back and offer him my other hand instead. He hesitates, but then wraps the armor around it. It clicks back together, fitting perfectly.

 _You can make the shield bigger or smaller by thinking about it, okay?_ he says, and I nod. _Good. I’m going to need you to get his attention._

My jaw drops. “You want me to–” I start, too loudly, and he claps a hand over my mouth. _You want me to do_ what _?!_ I repeat.

_You’ll be safe. The shield will protect you. Okay, you head over there and get him looking in that direction. I’ll go for the coordinates._

He wants to leave, but I grab his arm. _Please tell me you’ve at least got another one of those shields._

The crease in his brow and his sad smile tell me enough. _I’ll be fine. Let’s go._

He takes off, leaving me no choice but to do the same. I head in the opposite direction, taking deep breaths, being convinced I might pass out at any moment. Right before I speak up, I’m thinking, _T_ _his is the most heroic thing I’ve ever done._

And then, against all better judgment and convinced I’m going to die after all, I shout, “Hey, asshole!”

The Duke turns, red mechanic eyes locking with mine, and it takes everything in me not to bolt. Without a word, he charges his gun again, and before I can even think about what to do, he fires.

The blast pushes me back a few feet and I stumble, eyes pressed shut and clenching my teeth as I focus all my strength on keeping that shield in front of me. When it finally dies away, I find the shield is still intact—and more importantly, so am I.

I gasp, a bit unable to believe I’m still alive. I almost start laughing. Then I see the Duke is headed in my direction.

“ _You’re going to wish that shot killed you_ ,” he says, voice the sound of metal grinding metal, and I want to run. But then I spot Percy, who’s so close to the pod, and if I would run there’s no certainty the Duke won’t simply resume his business and I have the shield–

The Duke suddenly stops. He follows my line of sight, turning around slowly…

…until his eyes land on Percy.

He looks back over his shoulder at me briefly, with a sigh, and then he aims for Percy. Percy, who’s completely exposed, whose shield I have, who’s looking terrified with nowhere to flee. I start running toward him without a real plan, only thinking, _H_ _e saved my life, he’s my soulmate and my best friend, and I’m going to be too late_ _–_

There’s a _blip!_ and a cry, and Jeanne appears mid-air and she has a _sword_ and she hacks at the Duke, who can barely turn in time, using the gun to block and sending the blast through the ceiling. He swipes at Jeanne, but she’s disappeared again, only to reappear behind his back and attack again. I’m staring at them for a while, gaping, until I remember Percy and I resume running toward him. He sprints the last few feet for the pod, grabs something out of it, and meets me halfway. I still have so much momentum and adrenaline rushing through my veins I almost crash into the wall but he catches me.

We both watch Jeanne and the Duke fight. She’s fast, and manages to hit him in the shoulder once, but it barely seems to have an impact. The next time she appears, he’s anticipated it. He grabs her sword, then her shoulder, and he throws her a few feet through the air. She crashes against the floor and instantly tries to get back up, but I get the impression she’s hurt. Percy’s grabbed my arm and is taking his shield back, and I know he wants to help and want to stop him because _what is he going to do against that?_

The Duke slowly walks toward Jeanne, charging gun lazily in one hand. “ _You rebels should learn to stay out of my way._ ”

Something glides through the air, and hits the Duke’s shoulder with a soft _tak!_ He turns. It’s an arrow. It didn’t even leave an indent in the metal. He grabs it, intending to yank it out, but in that moment an electric pulse emerges from it, sparking and lashing out. The arm he’d been shot in falls limp, gun clattering to the floor.

From one of the doorways, Esmee emerges, longbow in her hand, already putting on a new arrow. She pulls it back, aimed for the Duke. Jeanne has also gotten back on her feet, wincing, but with her sword steady in hand. The Duke turns toward where we’re standing in front of the escape pod, Percy with his shield in hand.

There’s running footsteps, and the next moment, all three doorways start crowding with other rebels. Most already have their weapons drawn. The Duke looks around one last time. Then he slowly picks up his gun with his non-paralyzed hand and walks toward the outer wall. He blasts a hole in it, and, with one last glance over his shoulder, he disappears into the setting sun.


	7. Linked Matters

A long moment passes. My heart is pounding, and I’m clutching Percy’s arm. Jeanne’s still in the center of the room, sword raised, and she could be a statue if it weren’t for her shoulders shaking with her every breath and her marks glowing in the same rhythm. Esmee is the first who moves, putting away the arrow and pulling her bow over her shoulder, and running toward her. She gently places her hand on Jeanne’s shoulder, who starts, then relaxes. She slowly lowers the sword.

The other rebels put away their weapons too. A few head over to the pod.

“You okay?” Esmee asks.

Jeanne nods. “Hurt my leg a bit, but I’m fine.”

Esmee pauses. Her voice is soft. “We’ll take care of your leg in a moment, but… that’s not what I meant.”

Jeanne looks at her, big-eyed and vulnerable, and I suddenly feel as though I’m intruding in a very intimate moment. I look away. I let go of Percy while I’m at it, too. I push my mask up a little to wipe the sweat off my brow. I notice I’m trembling. “Well,” I say, a little out of breath. “That just happened.”

Percy makes his shield disappear. “It certainly did.” He then earnestly looks me in the eye. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

I look at my palm, carefully pulling away the sleeve that fell over it. “Well, this hurts.”

“I noticed.” He smiles, shaking his own right hand.

“But yes. For having just survived an encounter with a heavily armed madman, I’m all right.”

Percy nods, then heads over to Jeanne and Esmee. They’re still talking quietly. Esmee says something that makes Jeanne laugh, a sound that’s small and a little scared, but a laugh nonetheless.

“Hey,” Percy says, “thanks for saving us back there. I owe you one.”

Jeanne smiles tiredly at him. “You owe me several, actually.”

He chuckles. “I know.”

Jeanne raises her sword, and for a moment I genuinely believe she’s going to stab herself in the shoulder—but when the sword connects there, a bright light originates, and the whole thing disappears.

My jaw drops. I take a step back, going back to clutching Percy’s arm. Jeanne’s not looking particularly disturbed, eyes on the hole in the wall the Duke disappeared through, which only fuels my panic. My voice pitches as I point at her with a shaking hand. “Y-you – Did you just  _stab_ yourself?”

She looks confused, then her eyebrows shoot up, and her expression turns into delight. “He doesn’t know about the tattoos yet!” she exclaims.

I frown. “…Tattoos?”

Percy nods, and gently pries my hands away. He then pushes the fabric of his shirt down over one shoulder, to show me… a perfectly ordinary patch of skin. “Just a little Crown and Cleaver trick.”

“I don’t see anything.”

He smiles. “If it were always visible, it’d be a bit of a giveaway of our involvement with the rebels if we’d get caught, wouldn’t it?”

I lean in, and under my eyes, I see lines starting to appear, first black, then they start to glow white at the edges—a crown topping a cleaver, their symbol. Then the light grows brighter and becomes more shapeless. The armored glove he used to generate his shield clicks out of place, parts traveling up his arm and disappearing into the light, before the whole thing fades away again. He lets the fabric slip back into place, shrugging. “It’s a small pocket dimension. Pretty convenient to carry things with you.”

I’m still staring. “Huh.”

“Most of us only use it for _weapons_ , though,” Jeanne says, hands on her hips. Beside her, Esmee makes her bow fold in until all she’s holding is the handle, before putting it away in her own tattoo.

Percy sighs, and I get the impression he’s had this conversation quite often. “I just like keeping it with me. What’s the harm?”

“For us? None,” Esmee says.

“You, however,” Jeanne adds with a grin, “strike a pretty embarrassing picture when you accidentally pull out your violin in a life and death situation.”

“That happened one time,” Percy argues. He pauses. “Twice, but that’s not– Okay. Three times. But that’s it!”

“Just keep it at the base! It’s perfectly safe there!”

“You never know!” Percy protests. Then he adds: “And it makes an okay weapon.” He mimics a clubbing motion.

I’m not really following, since I’m honestly still recovering from the fact that Percy and I almost died a few minutes ago. The other three don’t seem to impressed by that, though, judging from their light-hearted discussion. Fortunately, we are then joined by someone sharing my common sense.

“Percy!”

It echoes through the halls, accompanied by running footsteps, and we all look up. Scipio appears in the doorway, catching his breath for a moment, until he spots us. He reaches us in five paces, then immediately takes Percy by the shoulders and looks him up and down. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

Percy smiles. “We’re fine. Thanks to these two.” He nods at Jeanne and Esmee.

“Yes,” Jeanne says. “Whatever would you do without us?”

Scipio watches him for another moment, before sighing deeply and wrapping Percy into a hug. “You kids are going to be the death of me.”

Percy shoves him away, pretending to be annoyed, but I can tell he loves it. Then Scipio embraces both the girls at once, who also protest with little conviction. Then his eyes land on me, and I want to run for a reason I don’t understand.

“You were here, too?” he asks.

Percy nods. “Monty found the pod. The Duke was already here before I managed to find him.”

And before I know what’s happening, Scipio wraps me in a hug as well.

I freeze. Some part of me tells me to  _run_ , as fast as possible, but I’m honestly so surprised I can’t do anything. Then he lets me go, one hand lingering on my shoulder. “You’re all right too?”

I nod mechanically.

Scipio looks over at the pod. Some other rebels are examining it. He shakes his head a little, as if he’s trying to get his thoughts in order. “Monty, you found the pod? Why didn’t you alert us right away?”

I’m still too dazed to answer, but fortunately Percy fills in for me. “He… doesn’t have a communicator.”

“He doesn’t–” Scipio turns to him, suddenly stern. “Percy Newton. You let a new recruit come on a mission without—has he even had any training? Please tell me he’s at least registered.”

“He arrived only yesterday! Amidst all the confusion!” Percy protests.

“You let him wander around _alone_ without a communicator! He could’ve died!”

“Yeah, Percy, I could’ve died,” I say, but I’m not really feeling it. In all honesty I’m trying to remember the last proper hug I had and… coming up empty.

Scipio sighs deeply. “I really thought you were more responsible than that, Percy.”

A stab of sadness goes through him, and he drops his head. I’m not sure why, but I feel the need to defend him. “It wasn’t his fault. I ran away. And he saved my life, so…”

“No, Scipio’s right,” Percy says. “I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have-”

“It’s fine, I shouldn’t have, either–”

“Aww,” Jeanne says. “You two really are adorable.”

We glare at her.

“I don’t think any of us were expecting any danger,” Esmee says.

Scipio nods. “Well, what’s done it’s done. I’m not sure what the Empire will do now they have the coordinates, but…”

“Actually,” Percy perks up. His hand goes into his pocket and reemerges with a small box, “they don’t.”

  
  


I’m sitting in a small room, separate from the rest of the ship. It’s messy and probably serves as storage compartment. All the crates and boxes and shelves rattle gently as the _Eleftheria_ heads back home.

The door opens, and there’s Percy. Behind him, I catch a glimpse of the rest of the cargo hold. Everyone’s much quieter than they were on the way here. Percy closes the door behind him and sits down on a crate across of me. It’s a small space, so his knees brush mine. I watch him as he puts the box he went to fetch down on his lap, opens it, and rummages around. When he finds what he’s looking for, he puts the box aside, and offers his hand with a small smile.

I place my injured hand in his. He starts cleaning the wound. Normally, the sight of my own blood would have me dizzy (and it does, a little), but for some reason I’m mesmerized by the way his long, slender fingers gently guide the piece of cloth with such precision, its texture against my skin, the warmth of his hand against the back of mine. Then he comes too close to the actual cut, and I flinch; and I see my own pain briefly reflected on his face. He smiles. “Sorry.”

He continues silently, putting on disinfectant and wrapping a bandage around. Through the first layer, blood seeps through. The second removes it from view.

With his attention on my hand, I risk watching his face. He’s looking focused, brow furrowed ever so slightly, biting his lip in one corner. Ringlets of hair falling over his eyes and—and those freckles beneath them. They’re harder to see if you’re not up close, but now I know they’re there, I can’t take my eyes off them.

Impulsively, I reach out a hand and trace them with my thumb, ever so lightly. He starts, looking me in the eye. I feel my face heat up and slowly lower my hand, but I keep it together.

“You never told me you had freckles,” I say.

He blinks in surprise, then one corner of his mouth tugs up and by the stars, he really is gorgeous. “Why would I tell you that?”

“I don’t know.”

We’re silent for a while again. He finishes wrapping, then puts on two pieces of tape to keep the end in place. “There we go,” he says.

The silence that follows could’ve been awkward, but we’re both so exhausted that we’re at peace with it. Then he says, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

He shrugs. “Leaving you on your own.”

“Well,” I say, “Scipio also promised me it was a completely risk-free mission, so.”

We chuckle about it.

“So,” I say. “Is this what life as a rebel is like? Lethal danger every day?”

He laughs. “Absolutely  _not_ . First of all, going out on missions is optional, and even then, they tend to be pretty safe.”

“I just got lucky, huh?”

“Yep.”

I huff. “I haven’t been a rebel for a full twenty-four hours yet and I already almost died twice.”

“Are you going to bring our deal into this?” He tips his head to the side, watching me with a small smile on his lips. It’s an invitation for banter, I can tell, so we can exchange some jabs and feel better. But I… need to say something else first.

“Nah.” I lean back, resting my head in my neck and staring at the ceiling. “It wasn’t your fault—the second time, that is. Actually, I think I’d be dead without you now, so, uhh…” I force myself to look him in the eye. “Well, thanks, I guess.”

He smiles, eyes downcast. “It’s nothing.”

Maybe it is. Maybe having your friends’ backs and regularly saving their lives is something completely normal here at the Crown and Cleaver, in spite of Percy’s claims things aren’t usually as dangerous.

But it isn’t just today he’s saved my life.

So to me, it isn’t nothing. It’s something. It’s… everything.

“I still can’t believe that I of all people found that stupid thing.” I roll my eyes.

Percy looks up at the change in topic, smile remaining in place. “Well, you are Linked, so the odds were pretty high anyway.”

“Everyone keeps tossing that word around. What does it mean?” I pause. “That I have a soulmate?”

“Eh, sorta.” He gestures vaguely with one hand. “You’re Linked because you have one, yes, but there’s other ways to be Linked, too. Jeanne,” he nods toward the door, “she’s Linked, too.”

“I’m… not sure I completely understand.”

Percy sits up, putting the first aid kit aside. “You know of the Supernova, yeah? That it sent out its elements through a considerable part of the galaxy?”

I nod.

“Well, that’s basically it. It changed… people and objects and sometimes even whole planets. It’s hard to really pick a term to describe all its effects, so let’s just stick to calling them… unusual properties. Things they normally would never be able to do.”

“Like… telepathically talking to someone who’s all the way across the galaxy.” It’s starting to click. “Or teleporting.”

“Exactly.” Percy nods. “There’s lots of different ways it can work. The ship—the rebel base—it’s also Linked.”

“Really? Linked how?”

He shrugs. “I’m not sure. But that’s what everyone says.”

I take a moment to think it over. “What else is Linked?”

“Well, there’s astridium, of course.”

I frown. “The stuff they put into batteries and engines?”

“Yes. It’s a mineral. The stardust in it makes it a near inexhaustible energy source.”

“Inexhaustible?” I think back to some of my father’s speeches. The search for renewable energy this, dwindling resources that. “Then why are there still energy problems?”

“Well, there’s only so much one piece of rock can generate. And it’s pretty hard to find, so…”

I’m nodding. It makes sense, connecting some dots that have been laid out for me my whole life. All connected. “Why is it called ‘Linked’?”

“Because that’s what it is. All those things are linked. They’ve got a certain… pull on each other. Like gravity.”

“Gravity?”

“Yeah. It’s why they also asked a few Linked for the mission today.” He pulls the box with the coordinates out of his pocket and lets me take it. “This thing is powered by astridium to keep its encryption operational. It’s Linked, and so are you, so it makes perfect sense that you found it.”

“But…” I think back to the Palace, walking around, lost in thought, feeling angry and trying to do anything _but_ find the pod. “I wasn’t even looking.”

“No need. I mean, you can search consciously, but Linked people find other Linked things by accident all the time.” He smiles. “They say that’s why soulmate bonds have their restrictions. That soulmates are destined to meet, anyway. But that the universe likes to decide when the right moment has come.”

I raise an eyebrow. “If you try to blame you kidnapping me on  _the universe_ , I swear – ”

He laughs. “Those are just the stories. You must’ve heard at least some of them.”

“I haven’t. Well, I’ve heard the Supernova story, because they teach about it in history class, and everything else… You’ve told me.”

“Then what do people say when they hear you’ve got a soulmate? They must say something.”

“Uh.” I swallow. “Not really, since they don’t tend to find out.”

He falters. “What… what do you mean?”

“Do all the rebels know you’ve got a soulmate?”

“Most of them, yeah, but we’re a pretty tight-knit bunch.” And I can tell how happy he feels at that thought. “They’re my family.”

“My family doesn’t know,” I say quietly. “But we’re not exactly tight-knit.”

His smile wavers.

“My mother knows, though,” I continue. “Since, you know, when a child hears and befriends a voice in their head, they tend to mention it to someone. And I told her. And she told me to never tell anyone.”

His expression is serious now. He’s looking at me, really looking at me, and I think he sees far more than what I’m okay with him seeing. That he sees things I don’t even know about myself. It makes me want to reach for the mask lying next to me and hide my face. But I bite my lip, ignoring the flush crawling up my neck. I clear my throat, and push the box back in his hands, avoiding eye contact. “How much longer until we get back? I’m starving and I want to sleep for twenty hours.”

He watches me for another moment, then, at long last, looks away. “Can’t be much longer now.” He stands up. “I’ll go ask Scipio.”

He’s already at the door when he stops, looking over his shoulder. He takes a sharp breath, as if he wants to say something. I look up.

He fumbles with the words for a while. Then he settles on, “Be careful with that hand, won’t you?”

I force a smile. “I’ll try to save you from any more suffering on my behalf.”

A long moment passes, and I regret saying it. Internally, I’m willing him to leave, so I can find a corner to hide in, even though I don’t know why.

“Take care,” he just repeats in the end.

Then he finally leaves.


	8. The Plan

Once again, it takes me some time to wake up and remember what I’m doing here. And when it hits me again—well, it hits. Somehow accompanied by an even worse headache than yesterday morning. God, I need a drink.

With great effort, I roll over, rubbing my eyes. Percy’s bed is empty. Has he always been up this early? I can’t remember. I don’t care. My head hurts and I’m sore all over and I want to sleep through the day. Maybe the next two days. Or just the entire month. Get this ordeal over with before I get another opportunity to almost die.

I bury myself further underneath the blanket, determined to pass out again, but that proves to be more difficult than I anticipated. The itch of the longing for a drink, any drink, demands my full attention, and refuses to let me go back to sleep. So I lie there for a while, staring at the ceiling and weighing my options, trying to decide what I’m willing to sacrifice for the other: sleep or alcohol.

Since I am already awake and far too agitated, sleep loses.

I’ve no idea of nor interest in what time it is when I leave the room. The hallways are quiet but not empty, and some people I’ve never seen before nod or smile at me. Which is weird. I nod back at a few, my mind mostly preoccupied with where I could possibly find something to drink. The cafeteria is hopeless, since it apparently doesn’t really serve any alcoholic drinks with any meal. The kitchens, maybe? That seems like my best shot.

Except this place is a maze and I have no idea where I’m going. I’m just debating asking for directions, when I run into a familiar face.

“Oh, you,” Sim says when she recognizes me, eyes narrowing. “I was looking for you.” Then she starts walking away from me, which bewilders me so much I simply follow.

Without looking back, she hands me a thin, black bracelet with a little screen. “Communicator. I heard about the mission yesterday.”

I strap the object around my wrist, tapping the screen to activate it. It’s an old model, not nearly as advanced as my original one, the one Percy destroyed.

“Have you and Percy settled on a good fake backstory yet?” she asks, voice even and disinterested, clearly hating this conversation as much as I am.

“No,” I say, “we’ve been rather preoccupied with almost dying.”

“Well, get on with it.” At first I think she means dying, but then I realize she’s talking about the ruse. “Sooner or later you’re going to get questioned. And I’d hate to see you get caught.”

From her tone, I don’t think she’d hate to see it that much, but she makes a point. She doesn’t say anything else, but lacking something better to do, I’m still following her. Then I realize the hallways are getting pretty crowded here, and that everyone’s headed in the same direction. “Where’s everyone going?”

“Briefing. It’s mandatory.”

I have just reasoned that a gathering of rebels would offer a unique opportunity for me to go in the opposite direction and nick something to drink, but the crowd is too dense and I can only really go along. I wind up in a large auditorium of some sort, round with rows of chairs, each row a bit higher than the one in front of it, like a theater. It’s full of rebels chatting amicably. Sim has, at some point, disappeared. I’m looking for a vacant seat and not finding one, when I suddenly see a hand waving from the second row.

“Monty! Over here!”

It’s Jeanne. She’s sitting with Esmee and Percy (who does not look back for me), and I join them.

“Good morning, fair ladies,” I greet them. “And Percy.”

At this, he looks up briefly with a smile he doesn’t mean. Being distant again today, I see. Fine. I don’t care.

“We saved you a seat,” Jeanne says, then slides closer against Esmee and pats the space between her and Percy. Percy looks a bit alarmed at that, but says nothing.

“Now, where were you off to this morning, all early?” I ask him, as I sit down.

He gives me a look. “It’s two in the afternoon.”

Oh. So it is. “Yeah?”

He breaks eye contact, facing forward again. “Just doing… things.”

Ugh. Whatever. I don’t need to talk to him. Instead, I turn toward Esmee and Jeanne. “I was just looking for a drink. Neither of you would happen to know…?”

Jeanne nods right away. “Kitchens.”

Ah, my suspicions were correct.

“They usually serve some at parties,” Esmee adds. “Or movie nights, or karaoke nights, … Never at board game nights, though.”

“The trick is to bribe the kitchen staff,” Jeanne tells me very seriously. “One of the cooks, a Nean, Rim, is their name, they–”

I’m distracted by a hand on my arm, a hand that surprisingly turns out to be Percy’s. I turn.

“You could try the hospital ward,” he says.

“Really?” That lightens my mood right away. I knew he’d understand. “Do they keep it around there for medicinal uses?”

Percy casts a glance at Jeanne and Esmee, who are now gossiping about the kitchen staff. Then he says, voice quiet so only I can hear him, “I mean, they can help you. Do something about… you know.”

My stomach plummets. I stare at him. My voice sounds distant. “About what?”

He tips his head to the side, avoiding eye contact. He’s feeling bad about bringing this up, but not nearly as much as he should. “You know.”

“I really, really don’t.” I turn to face forward again, my head spinning a little. My soulmate’s never mentioned this before. Or maybe he has, but not like this.

Fortunately, Sim then takes the stage and everyone quiets down. “All right, good afternoon, everyone,” she starts. “You all know the past few days have been anything but quiet around here.”

The crowd murmurs. “That’s an understatement,” Esmee says.

“Between us being accused of the Crown Prince’s kidnapping and the attack in the Museum System yesterday, it’s safe to say we’re back on the Empire’s radar. My father, my brothers and I agree this is likely just the beginning. The Empire wants us gone, and it’s used to getting what it wants.”

I suppose I can’t argue with that. I do lean over to Jeanne to ask, “Who’s her father?”

“Commodore Aldajah,” she replies. “You didn’t know?”

Oh. The rebel leader himself. I do a double take, looking back at Sim. “That’s his daughter?”

“Shh!” Esmee says, as Sim continues, “So we need to stay vigilant. For the foreseeable future, there’s now an 8 p.m. curfew, and everyone leaving the base will have to be granted permission first. Planned operations continue as normal; we do strongly advise to bring someone trained in combat along if you’re not sure you’ll be able to defend yourself when it comes down to it. I’m mostly talking about restocking missions here.”

The crowd has gotten louder, clearly not entirely at peace with these regulations.

“It’s just for the time being,” Sim reassures them, a bit annoyed. “You’ll get to go back on your bi-monthly spaceship races soon enough.”

“Are those canceled too?” someone calls out.

“They are,” Sim confirms, and a lot of people groan in unison. One of them is Percy.

“It’s okay, Percy,” Jeanne says, leaning over to put a hand on his arm. “We know you would’ve beaten Theo Fitz’s team this weekend.”

He gives her a smile.

It’s a weird thing to consider the rebels entertaining something as simple as a race, or a movie night, for that matter. In my head, their only occupation was taking down the Empire. Though I suppose that must get pretty boring after a while.

It takes Sim some time to get to crowd to calm down again. Eventually, a guy standing next to the stage I hadn’t spotted before, yells, “Quiet!”

It’s effective. Sim glares at him, then resumes, “Only necessary trips outside,  _temporarily_ .” When everyone protests again, she raises her voice. “ _We_ are the only thing standing between the Empire and total galactic reign. We can’t fight back if we all get caught because we were distracted trying to see if anyone could do the five laps around the system in under twenty minutes. So let’s give the good example. All right, any questions?”

The crowd settles back down in reluctant agreement. A few people have questions, and Sim answers them all before dismissing us. Well, almost dismissing us.

“Can the group that was at Versailles yesterday stay?”

That’s us, I suppose. Esmee, who’d already stood up, sits back down, and we wait as the hall slowly empties, until it’s just the crew of the Eleftheria, Sim, and the guy who quieted the room earlier. The rest of the group is spread across the room. I spot Scipio in the back, and he smiles at me.

“Okay,” Sim says. She’s putting up a screen, pulling up some images. “First of all, we owe you our gratitude for obtaining the coordinates, especially in the circumstances. This is of high priority and it would’ve been incredibly dangerous in the Empire’s hands.”

A few images pass by over the screen. A floor plan, some words and numbers, then symbols in languages I don’t recognize. Then, a schematic. I’m not really sure of what. The text is too small to read from where I’m sitting.

“It’s been decided you’re all granted access to more information about this project. Partially because you deserve to know exactly what some of you risked your lives for.”

At that, Esmee takes Jeanne’s hand.

“Partially because we have an offer,” Sim continues. “But more on that later. Dante?”

She’s looking at a spot in the audience, and I turn to follow her line of sight. A man—or rather, a boy—whom I hadn’t noticed before, stands up and heads toward the stage. He isn’t particularly short, but he’s got his shoulders pulled up and his eyes fixed on the floor, constantly readjusting his spectacles, making himself small. I’m trying to remember why his name sounds familiar. He takes place in front of the screen, briefly sneaking a glance at the audience, turning fantastically red, then looking away again. “My-my family and I spent the past two years running tests and doing-doing calculations.”

Oh, that guy.

“As-as soon as we heard the Heart might still be out there, that we might be able to _find_ it, my parents were fascinated. They’d been examining all sorts of Linked matter for as long-as long as I can remember. Especially astridium caught their interest.”

The image on the screen clears up, now displaying… a rock, with a bunch of arrows pointing away from it and symbols. “They realized astridium was the purest form we know of the Heart’s stardust. And while-while it has a large and so far mostly unmapped variety of effects on matter, in its very essence it’s all the same: pure energy.”

“This is a very large reason why the Empire has been so aggressive in their seizure and guarding of astridium mines,” Sim goes on. “Almost all of their technology is powered by it. But even with their monopoly, they barely have enough to power their fleet. Getting more energy sources and fast is their biggest concern at the moment.”

“Hence, their—and our—interest in the Heart.” The screen changes again, now showing a circular object. The star, I think. “If all Linked matter is just a diluted version of what the stardust can do, then the real prize is… well, the Heart itself.” He pauses. “Even if it–even if it has just a fragment left of the star’s original elements… it’s still pure energy. Imagine what someone would be able to do with that.”

“More precisely, imagine what the Empire would be able to do with that,” Sim says grimly. “One pound of astridium is enough to power a spaceship. The Heart has a mass of an estimated five thousand times the Earth’s old sun. Do the math.”

“And think of what _we’d_ be able to do with that,” the guy standing beside the stage adds.

Sim’s jaw sets, eyes darting back briefly. “The point is, whoever manages to locate and find a way to use the Heart’s energy… will very likely win the war.”

“The war is completely insignificant to what the Heart can do,” Dante interrupts. He’s mostly talking to himself, looking at the screen. “We’re talking about possibly more power than is being used in the entire galaxy right now. Who controls the Heart… might control the entire universe.”

“Which is why it’s so important the Empire doesn’t get it,” Sim concludes.

“How… exactly would tapping the Heart of its energy work, though?” Esmee asks. “That thing was huge. If there’s anything left of it, it has to be a singularity.”

“That is correct,” Dante amends. “But it’s unlike any singularity we’ve ever seen.”

I lean over to whisper to Jeanne, “What do they mean?”

“It’s a black hole,” she whispers back.

“Oh.” That sounds bad.

“We’ve been working on some blueprints, and if we’d have gotten a few more weeks, I think we might’ve been able to finish building something that could work.” Dante pushes his spectacles back up his nose, eyes still on the screen. “Well, in theory, at least.”

“In theory?” Esmee asks.

“We’ve run a great number of simulations, and have adjusted the device accordingly. We were just working out the final flaws when…” He trails off.

“The base was destroyed when we arrived,” Sim says. “So we can’t be certain. But we need to consider the real possibility that the device has fallen into the Empire’s hands.”

A distraught silence falls over the room.

“But at least we have the Heart’s coordinates,” Jeanne says.

Sim and Dante exchange a glance. “…Not quite,” Dante says.

“We can’t decrypt it,” Sim elaborates. “We’re not even sure what code it is.”

“Why would one of your own scientists encrypt information in a code you don’t know?” I remark, which gets me a glare from Sim. I thought it was a reasonable question.

“Because then the Empire would very likely have been able to decrypt it as well,” Dante says.

“That’s where we need you,” Sim says. “We have a few allies that are specialized in these kind of things, but they’re a bit… hard to reach.”

The screen changes again, now showing a star map that enlarges quickly, until it stops on an asteroid.  _Obscura System_ , the label reads.

“The Morningstar Market,” Scipio says.

“Super illegal,” Jeanne tells me. “And the Empire visits it a lot.”

“We need a group of about three people. The task is to _not_ catch anyone’s attention, talk to our contacts, and leave without arousing suspicion.” Sim looks around. “If there’s anyone interested–”

“I’ll do it.”

Everyone turns to stare at me.

I’m a little surprised I’ve spoken, really. But ever since Dante mentioned how important this Heart is, my brain has been adding some things up. So I persist. I stand up and repeat, “I can do it. Me and… Percy. Yeah. We’re not busy.”

Percy’s eyes widen.  _I’m sorry, what?_

_Trust me_ , I say,  _I have an idea._

He bites his lip, clearly not convinced, but then he shrugs. “Yeah, we’ll do it.”

“I’m not sure–” Sim starts, right when Jeanne perks up, “I’ll come too!”

She wants to stand, but the second she does a flash of pain travels over her face. Esmee takes her arms and gently helps her sit down. “Easy, love. You need to rest.”

“I’m fine,” Jeanne protests. Then, to Sim: “When is this mission?”

“In two days,” Sim says.

Jeanne’s already turned back to Esmee to use that argument, but the latter beats her to it, “I’ll go.” She smiles. “Let me have some of the fun, won’t you?”

Jeanne clearly doesn’t agree, but she leans back in her seat, arms crossed. “Fine. Only because I love you.”

“That’s settled, then.” The guy leaning against the wall next to the stage stands up and seems to be headed for the exit. “We’ll send you all the information you need.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Sim stops him.

“Why?” the other asks. “They were the team that got the coordinates at Versailles, right? They know what they’re doing.”

I definitely know what I’m doing, and Sim has a suspicion I’m up to something. Her eyes linger on me. “Monty’s new. He hasn’t even had any training yet.”

“Put him in training, then,” the other guy says, walking away. “There’s still some time left.”

Then he leaves the room.

Sim glares after him for a while, then throws her hands up in surrender. “Fine!” She heads for the exit in the back as well. When she passes us by, she says, “You three. Report at 9 a.m. in the West Docks, in two days. Don’t be late.”

As soon as the door falls closed behind her, I grab Percy’s arm and drag him outside via a side entrance. I quickly check if the hallways are empty. Then I tell him, “I’ve got an idea.”

“I got that,” Percy says warily. I realize I’m still holding his arms and I have him sort of pressed to the wall in my enthusiasm, so I take a step back and let go.

“Remember when you said the reason you couldn’t use me as leverage yet was because that might result in the Crown and Cleaver being destroyed?”

“Yes? What does that have to do with–” He cuts off, eyes getting lost in the distance. “You want the rebels to get control over the Heart. Because then they’d have the upper hand. And we can force them into a deal.”

“Exactly.” I smirk. “As much as I hate to say it, that Heart might even be better leverage than I am. So here’s the plan: we go to that market, make sure the coordinates get decrypted, and get you rebels the Heart.”

“We don’t have the device, though,” Percy argues. “We’ve no way of actually using it.”

I wave away his comment. “Details. The Empire just needs to  _think_ you can use it. And with that threat, you can trade me for… whatever it is you need, and we both get what we want. I can go home.”

I can see him going over it in his head. Eventually he says, a bit in disbelief, “That’s… a mostly good plan, actually.”

“No need to sound so surprised, darling.”

“You do realize this might get dangerous, right?” he asks. “Do you even know what the Morningstar Market is?”

I shrug it off. “Some illegal market, right? And besides, we survived yesterday, didn’t we?” I start walking away. “If we can handle almost getting shot by a murderous bounty hunter, we can handle a shopping trip.”


	9. Training

The day before we are to depart to this notorious Morningstar Market, I’m expected in the training hall. It’s a big hall at an edge of the ship, with tall windows looking out on the solar system. Large parts of the floor are covered in soft material and so are parts of the wall. There’s an ever-shifting gym track in one corner, a long line of targets against another wall, and a booth with weapons and other objects one can borrow for a training session. Over my head, there’s another track with various obstacles in the air. A whistle goes off, and two girls cross it at a remarkable speed. The one with purple hair finishes first, the second lets herself collapse at the finish line with a laugh.

I spot Scipio in the far corner, near a window. He’s busy with something and doesn’t notice me until I’m a few feet away from him. He looks up and smiles.

“So,” he says. “You and Percy are going on another mission.”

“We are.”

“Lots of new recruits are enthusiastic about missions when they first get here,” he says. He runs a hand over his beard, brow creasing. “Most lose the appetite very quickly, though. They’re all desperate to hurt the Empire and in the end, the Empire just hurts them more. It’s a necessary fight.” He looks at me. “Sometimes I just wish there weren’t so many younglings fighting it.”

I have absolutely no idea how to respond.

He turns away, pushing aside a box with his foot, clearing the floor. “How’s your hand?”

“My… Oh.” The topic jump throws me off for a second. “It’s fine. Just a small cut.”

“Good, good.” He turns back to face me again. “Okay, Monty. What do you know about self defense?”

“I…” Good question. “You mean, like, in fights?”

“Yes. When people try to hurt you, what do you do?”

 _Put my hands down._ “I… run the other way?”

He nods. “Good instinct. Running away is always a good option. Remember: defeating the Empire is our main cause, but our highest priority is our members’ safety. That’s our first rule: the mission comes second, your life always comes first.” He chuckles. “Not that anyone ever follows that rule.”

I blink at him. They… advise people to take care of themselves first? Is this some kind of a joke? Where are the fanatic rebels who are hellbent on destroying the Empire with as much collateral damage as possible?

“Okay. But what do you do if you can’t get away?” he asks.

“I…” just let it happen to me, “I don’t know.”

“Have you ever been in a fight, Monty?”

“Not really.”

“Thrown a punch?”

“...No.”

“All right, then that’s where we’re starting.” He puts both his own hands up, palms flat toward me. “Get your hands up.”

I frown at him. “You want me to…?”

“Show me your best punch.”

Oh, God. I don’t like this at all. Reluctantly, I raise both my hands, and instantly feel so ridiculous I drop them again. “I can’t.”

“Sure you can.”

I look down at my own hands. I feel far too feeble to strike anyone. “Wasn’t this supposed to be just a recon mission?”

“In enemy territory, you always have to remain vigilant. It’s important to be able to defend yourself, anytime, especially if you’re doing the kind of dangerous things we rebels do.”

I cringe. “Isn’t there a way I’m supposed to stand first?”

“When you’re in a proper fight, you’ll be lucky if you’re standing at all. But put a foot forward. Your right one, if that’s the one you swing with. Come now, square up. I know you’re taller than that.”

“I’m not.” I try to follow his instructions awkwardly. I must look so daft.

“Get your arm back. And cock your knee there.” He hooks his foot around my back leg and tugs until I sink into it. “It comes from the knees. And keep your other hand up, to protect your face. Come on now, give me a swing.”

I sigh deeply. I swat at his hand, unconvincingly. “There, see? I can’t do it. Can I go now?”

“You’re here to learn it. Try again.”

Ugh. I give it a few more tries, too self-aware to ever get much power behind it.

“Like you mean it,” Scipio says. “Like you mean to protect yourself.”

I grit my teeth, grimacing from embarrassment. _If Father could see me now._ The thought is a strange mix of humiliating and encouraging. He can’t. He isn’t here. He isn’t here to tell me to put my hands down and that I’m being pathetic and hopeless and an embarrassment. I’m here in the rebel base, the one he’s been trying to get into for ages, without having really tried at all. If Father could see me now, being taught how to defend myself by a rebel, he’d lose his mind.

The thought is strangely delightful.

I pull back and swing harder this time - it’s still not a good punch, but there’s a bit more enthusiasm behind it. Less of a defense or an apology. It feels like my bones crack in half when I make contact, and I double over. “Son of a bitch.”

Scipio laughs. “Get your thumb out of your fist. That’ll help. That was a good swing, though. You meant that one.”

I take some time to let the pain ebb away. He sits down on a bench against the wall. “Let’s take a short break. A drink?”

“Yes,” I say, right away as I sit down next to him. I’m handed a bottle of water. “Oh.” I bite back the disappointment, then take a sip anyway. “Thanks.”

“Speaking of which, Monty…” His tone gets hesitant, as if he’s unsure this is something he can mention. “That mask of yours. It has to… get in the way, right?”

I freeze. _Fuck._ Has he got me figured out? What did I do to give it away? I force myself to calm down. “I… guess.”

He sighs. “Let me just get to the point.” He picks up the box he'd pushed aside earlier and hands it over. “I had this made in the workshops. I hope it fits.”

I frown. The box is simple, flat and cardboard

“Consider it…” He laughs awkwardly. “An apology. Percy told me he didn’t really appreciate me warning you about breaking his heart, so... And I figured you could use it. When you’re going on missions, you need your eyes.”

I carefully lift the lid. Inside lies… a mask. It’s simple, made from some grey metal, remarkably light when I lift it. It’s got actual holes for the eyes and covers large parts of one’s forehead, cheeks and nose, but stops above the mouth. I blink. “Is this… for me?”

Scipio shrugs, looking away. “If you think you can use it.”

“I… don’t know what to say.” This is… a gift for me? I don’t understand. Why would anyone-? They barely know me. It hits me how hysterical this all is - this rebel literally had _a mask made for me_ , so I could cover up what he thinks are scars but instead is just me being his enemy. This entire situation is a mess.

“I asked Percy about… the scars,” he says, still awkward. “So I could make sure it’d do.”

 _Percy_ , I call right away.

_What?_

_You told Scipio something about my supposed scars?_

He hesitates. _Yes? He asked, I had to make up something._

 _Where’d you say they are?_ I ask. _You know. So I know what lie we’re going with._

_Oh, right. I was kind of vague about it, though. Just… mostly around your eyes and… well, the upper three quarters of your face._

_That much?!_

_You need a reason to hide your face, remember._

_Hmpf._ I run my thumb over the smooth surface. I suppose this would be more convenient than the piece of scrap I’ve been walking around with for days now.

“You should try it on,” Scipio says. “If there’s any adjustments that need to be made, I’ll take care of it.”

Try it on. Right now. Oh, no. On second thought, this mask does cover a considerably smaller amount of my face. What if he’ll recognize me?

“Right,” I say, voice pitching a bit. “Just… give me a moment.”

He turns away, and I quickly scan the room. It’s mostly abandoned, no one looking my way. I take off the old mask and put the new one back on just as quickly. It sits _so much nicer_. It fits perfectly, and I barely even recognize the room now I’m able to see it properly. I can breathe easier with nothing in front of my mouth, too.

I slowly turn back to Scipio, my heart racing. This is it, I guess. _Percy, stand by. I’m in the training halls, so if I get recognized right now,_ you’re _getting me out of this mess._ I hold my breath. Scipio’s still looking away respectfully.

“It fits,” I say.

He turns back. My heart feels like it’s about to escape my chest via my throat, but then he just smiles. “Great!”

I exhale in relief, trying not to let it show too much.

 _Are you all right?_ Percy’s voice still comes, way too late. _Is this about the new mask?_

 _Yes, and I’m fine, no thanks to you_ , I reply. _Scipio hasn’t recognized me yet, but I don’t really like the odds now. Have you got any hair dye lying around?_

 _I don’t_ , he says. _I’ll ask Jeanne._

_Much appreciated._

“Um.” I’m still trying to figure out how to handle this conversation. “I, uhh… thanks?”

“You’re more than welcome,” Scipio says. “You’re part of the family now.”

“The… family?”

“Well, yes. The rebels. The higher-ups don’t like it when we call it that, but to hell with it.” He makes a dismissive gesture. “We’re all here for the same reasons, and, well… most people here have similar tragedies in the past.”

I’m still blinking at him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “Almost everyone here has suffered at the hands of the Empire, in one way or another. But I suppose I shouldn’t tell you anything about that.”

My heart skips another beat. “Why not?”

He looks at me briefly, as if he’s surprised I’m asking this. “Well, you’re… you’ve… It’s all right, you know. Percy told me.”

“Told you what?”

“You know…” He awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. “How you got your scars.”

“How I got my…” I’m doing an awful lot of repeating in this conversation, but I’m honestly having trouble keeping up. What _did_ Percy tell him? That seems important for me to know, lest I accidentally say something contradictory and give us both away. So I swallow and nod. “Right. So what exactly- I mean, how much did Percy tell you?”

He’s looking _really_ uncomfortable. “Oh, just… that your father works for the Empire and that when you still lived with him he used to… but when you ended up with those scars you decided to leave. And that’s when Percy found you.”

I’m staring at him. My ears are ringing, and reality seems out of focus. _He knows._ He knows because Percy told him, because Percy made up a story where my Father is the reason behind these scars he also made up. And then he made himself some kind of hero who swept in to save me and - and I’m not sure what I hate more, the parts he invented or that he actually _told_ Scipio that Father-

“Monty?” Scipio’s voice sounds distant, as if I’m under water. “Are you all right?”

And suddenly I can’t be here anymore, in this room, looking a man in the eye who _knows_ even though I barely know him, who’s been kind to me and teaching me self defense because- _because_. I feel sick.

I stand up and run away.

I’m not really sure how long I’ve been here. Nor how I got here. Nor where _here_ is, exactly.

I’m lying on my back on the ship’s deck, on wooden boards that got uncomfortable ages ago but I refuse to move. I’ve got my arms folded under my head and I’m looking at the stars. I can’t see the sun from here. I suppose that qualifies the time of day as ‘night’. My eyes are lost, counting the little dots in the sky without actually counting them, trying to name all the colors I can see in a distant nebula. Anything to drown out the thoughts. I would’ve gotten something to drink but I can’t find a single goddamn drop of it on this entire godforsaken ship and I hate it with a burning passion. The ship, the Crown and Cleaver, every rebel here, but one in particular.

One who of course decides to pay me a visit.

I hear the latch open a few feet away from me. I don’t look up, but I know it’s him. I don’t know how. I just do. My first instinct is to run away further, but that would look stupid, so I don’t. Instead, I simply stare straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge his presence.

He climbs out of the latch and carefully closes it behind him. He reaches me in a few paces, towering over me, and I get the sudden fear I might start to cry in front of him. I can’t really make out his expression, silhouetted against the night sky. I’m glad.

“You’re blocking my view,” I say.

“I’m sorry,” he replies.

That makes my anger spike like oil on a fire. I stand up and snap, “Sorry for what? Sorry that you spilled my entire fucking life story to someone I don’t even know? Sorry you weren’t able to keep something that’s told to you in confidence to yourself? Sorry that you’re the worst fucking soulmate in the entire goddamn galaxy?”

I wait for him to yell back, so I can properly take out my anger and maybe feel a bit better afterward, but he doesn’t say anything. So I continue: “ _Why_ ? Why’d you do it, huh? So you could make a real joke out of it? So you could point at me and say, _Look, there’s Henry, the sorry little bastard whose father beats him. Just a real fucking hopeless case_ ? So you could _pity_ me?”

“He already knew,” Percy says quietly.

“What was that, darling?” I take a step toward him, pretending to listen closely. “Would you speak up? ‘Cause I couldn’t hear you clearly, though the only thing it could’ve been if you’ve got any goddamn decency left was an offer to _get me the hell away from here and to never talk to me again._ ”

“He already knew,” Percy repeats louder, controlled anger in his voice.

“ _Who_ knew _what_?” I spat.

“ _Scipio already knew_ ,” he says, stressing every word.

“Is that supposed to make it any better? It only means you told him earlier, with even less reason, which doesn’t take away from the fact that _you told him_ -”

“I didn’t have a choice!” Percy suddenly snaps, rage spiking up.

“Oh, really? Really? Just really couldn’t control what you were gonna say, huh?”

“I spent three days in the hospital ward when you were expelled from school.”

“You really didn’t have any- wh… what?”

Percy looks at me, jaw set and the corners of his mouth tugged down in a pained expression. Then he averts his eyes. “Scipio found me. I tried to lie, I promise, but I was in such a miserable state that- and my soulmate had just told me he wanted to die and I-” He sighs. “I didn’t know how to handle all that. I’m really sorry. I know it wasn’t up to me to tell anyone. But I didn’t have a choice.”

I feel like I’m deflating, all the righteous anger draining like a water bottle with holes pricked into it. “But I… it… it wasn’t so bad. I mean, it was, but I recovered, I didn’t even had to go to the hospital.”

“You recovered because I was getting treatment for your injuries.” He doesn’t even sound angry anymore, which somehow makes it much, much worse. He looks at me, pleading. “Monty. Your ribs were broken.”

I’m trying to think back of the days after my expulsion from Eton, after Father had made it very clear exactly how mad he was about it and more precisely about the reasons of me being thrown out. It’s mostly a blur, lying on the floor in my room, talking to no one, Felicity stopping by once to tell me I should know better than to get into fights. The only real clear thing from that period of time was my soulmate’s voice, talking me through, gently reassuring me I’d done nothing wrong, promising me I’d feel better soon. Telling me stupid jokes that I laughed at even though it hurt and telling me he’d always be by my side.

And through all that… he’d been hurting almost just as bad?

I slump down, letting myself fall down on my knees. “I… I don’t remember that.”

Percy kneels down in front of me. “You had other things on your mind.”

“But still, you… You…” I’ve always known that whenever I took a hit, my soulmate felt it too. Logically, I’ve always known that. And I remember apologizing for it a handful of times, mostly when I was too much of a wreck to do anything else, but somehow it never occured to me that-

It just never occured to me.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my throat so tight there’s barely any sound.

“Don’t be.”

Everything suddenly feels heavy, so I lie back down again. The night sky greets me with a comforting indifference. I sigh, feeling like I’ve been hit by a bus. Percy hesitates a moment, then lies down beside me, his head next to mine but his body pointing in the opposite direction. A spaceship passes over us, a great distance away.

We stay like that for a while in silence, and I sort of want to sink into the floor like it’s quicksand and never resurface. I’m weary to the bone. I’ve barely been up for three hours, and I already feel so exhausted I want to go right back to bed. Maybe that’ll help avoiding dealing with this all.

“How’d you find me?” I ask after a while.

I see him shrug from my peripheral. “Well. We are Linked.”

I nod. High above us, two shooting stars cross the sky, side by side, brief bright flashes, passing by just as quickly. I follow their trail even when I can’t see them anymore.

“I asked Jeanne, by the way,” Percy says.

“Hm?”

“About the dye. She’s got blue, purple and green. Red, also, but she said you can’t have that one.”

I huff out a laugh. “Light or dark blue?”

“Light.”

“But, like, _actual_ light blue or more of a turquoise?”

Percy laughs. “I don’t know, go ask her yourself.”

“I will.”

We lapse into silence again, and I’m not sure how I can feel horrible and strangely okay at the same time. I glance at Percy from the corner of my eye. He’s staring straight ahead, at the stars, and I’m so close I can see his freckles. Perfectly relaxed, with the ghost of a smile on his face. And I don’t understand how, after everything I’ve put him through, he can feel so perfectly at peace just lying at my side.

“I should get back to the training hall,” I say as I sit up, voice cracking a bit. “I, uhh… sort of just dashed out.”

He props himself up on one elbow. “Do you want me to come with you?”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “So you can watch me be terrible at punching people?”

“Perhaps.”

I chuckle and stand up, then help him on his feet. “So did you have to do this training thing too?”

He shrugs. “We all did. Those of us going on missions, anyway.”

“So you’re okay at it?”

He grimaces. “I… hope so?” Then he lets his shoulders slump. “They gave me a shield for a reason.”

I laugh. “That does make me feel better.”

“You’re not welcome.”

“Hey, cheer up. That shield saved my life once already so far.”

He opens the latch, then lets me climb down first. “I do plan to avoid any more trouble.”

“You are a rebel. Isn’t trouble sort of your daily routine?”

“We usually try to avoid trouble. I’ve been pretty good at it, too, before you got here.”

I chuckle. “Just my luck, huh?”

“Just your luck.”


	10. The Market

The Market isn’t what I expect of it, though if you had asked me earlier _what_ , exactly, I expected of it, I’m not sure I’d have been able to answer you.

It is one of the strangest constructions I’ve ever seen. First of all, it’s located in what I originally took for a field of debris, almost impossibly well hidden between the other space rocks. I’ve been told it’s what’s left of a moon. A hundred separate platforms are held in each other’s orbit by an invisible force. Visitors travel between the platforms in small boats. The space between the different parts is filled with something that seems to have about the same properties as water, except it has the strangest colors and sometimes randomly vaporizes, causing the whole thing to be covered in a thick, weirdly-colored mist.

It’s chilly, too. I huddle further away in my coat, pulling my hood further over my eyes. I can’t see a damn thing here, anyway, and if I do, it scares the living daylight out of me. Sometimes, we pass by other boats, traveled on by weird figures whose faces I can’t see, even though I’m convinced they’re staring at me. Sometimes, we pass by empty boats, traveling on their own, the not-water sloshing against the hull in otherwise perfect silence, and that’s somehow even creepier.

It’s all very unsettling, in conclusion.

I shiver. “No one told me it was going to be this damn cold,” I mutter.

“We’re almost there” Percy says.

I brush aside a lock that’s sticking to my forehead. Everything’s damp, and I hate it. “The moisture in the air is going to un-dye my hair.”

Percy chuckles. “I’m pretty sure that’s impossible.”

After training, we wasted no time. I roped Percy into dyeing it for me. Unfortunately, he had no experience with it, and neither did I. When the bathroom we were using ended up considerably bluer than before, we called Jeanne to help. Esmee accompanied her for what I am convinced was only to mock us, but the point is, in the end it got done. I also ended up cutting it a bit, just to be sure, and I must say I’m pretty happy with the result. I’ve always wanted to dye my hair but I’ve never really been allowed to, and the blue streaks look good on me.

The bathroom on the second floor is still very much stained, though. I’ve suggested starting a trend to get other people to dye their hair blue as well, to cast away suspicion.

I nudge Percy in the arm. “You haven’t complimented my hair yet.”

He glances around, checking if anyone’s nearby, then pulls my hood down. He rests his chin on his hand, pretending to study me with a small smile. “I like your hair, Monty. It suits you.”

“Thank you, darling.”

There’s a splashing sound behind us, and we’re sprayed with the not-water. Esmee’s lifted her paddle above us, and glares at us with annoyance she can’t make convincing. “Quit being cute, you two,” she says. “We’re on a mission, and worse, you’re making me miss my girlfriend.”

A few more minutes pass, the only sound the creaking of wood and the splashing of water. We keep passing by colored lights, their sources invisible in the fog, but as we sail right past them I assume they’re meaningless. However, when we pass by a set of about six lights, in a strange pattern of oranges, blues and yellows, Percy sits up and points. “We’re there,” he says, hushed.

Esmee guides our boat toward them. As we get closer, I can start seeing the shape of the little rock island. There’s a tiny pier where we tie our boat off. I step out of the boat, and almost pitch back into the water. Percy catches my hand.

A few feet further we are met with a wooden stand, sheltered by an awning. I can’t imagine they’d ever get much sun here, though. Behind it, a man with greying hair sits, eyes trained on his book. He looks up when we approach him.

“Good afternoon,” he says. There’s a bit of an accent in his voice. “What can I help you with?”

“We’re looking for an antidote,” Esmee speaks up.

“I see,” the man replies, watching us carefully. “And against what poison?”

“Venom, actually. We were visiting Wenn, on Seréale, and I got bitten by a snake.”

“And do you know what kind of snake it was?”

“I’m not sure. It was blue, with glowing yellow spots.”

I have absolutely no idea what they’re talking about. Percy catches my eye and shakes his head with a reassuring smile.  _It’s a code_ , he says.

“The blue mountain serpent, then. Seréale is crawling with them. Very well. How long ago did you get bitten?”

“Fifty-four hours.”

“That’s quite a long time.”

“I wasn’t worried at first. It didn’t start hurting until this morning.”

The man nods, apparently satisfied. He stands up. “I have something for that. Come inside.”

We follow him, past shelves full of bottles and jars, through a set of two doors—one opening to the outside, one to the inside. In the wooden cabin it’s well lit, warm yellow lamps on the ceiling between drying bushes of herbs. It’s for the better part stuffed with boxes, crates, more jars, and all sorts of trinkets. Percy closes the doors behind us.

“I can assume you weren’t followed?” the man asks.

Percy nods.

I’m still looking around. Inside, too, there’s shelves reaching all the way to the ceiling, covered in curiosities, from silver and brass instruments to glowing matchboxes, to dried insects and a wilted assembly of flowers. I accidentally walk into a pile of boxes and can only just catch it before it falls over.

“A new face,” the man remarks, and I realize he’s talking about me.

I turn. “Oh, yes. Hello, I’m _–_ ” All three others shush me. “What?” I ask.

“This place has eyes and ears everywhere,” the man says. “You do not want to be found here.”

That… makes sense, I guess.

_This is Pascal_ , Percy tells me.  _He’s an ally of the Crown and Cleaver._

“What do you need?” Pascal asks, looking between us.

“We need to talk to your encryption experts,” Percy says. “We have a key containing information, but we can’t access it.”

Pascal nods. “Follow me.”

He walks past us, back to the door we came through, and I frown. I really was under the impression this island was barely twenty feet square, so I’ve no idea where we’re going. Pascal takes a key out of his pocket and turns it in the lock. The door opens, sunlight falling in. Which confuses me, as I’ve yet to spot a single natural light source in this place. Then I realize the second door has somehow disappeared, and that we’re not heading back out to the stand on the little island at all.

We follow him through the door that now leads somewhere completely else. We’re exiting the cabin of a boat, laying in a harbor amid dozens other colorful boats. The sun shines so bright and warm it gives me whiplash, exiting the depressing fog of the Market. I must be staring, for Percy takes my wrist and gently pulls me along.

We step across the decks of several boats, sometimes passing people by who Pascal greets fondly. Our destination is a boat painted a deep blue, darker than the water we’re on. On deck, two elderly women sit, dressed in long black clothes.

“ _Senyoretes_ Ernesta Herrera _I_ Eva Davila,” Pascal introduces them. We nod politely.

Percy retrieves the box we found at Versailles from his pocket and offers it. Ernesta reaches out. She turns it around in her hands, studying it, then passes it onto Eva.

“A locked box,” Ernesta says. “What do you need with it?”

“It contains very important information,” Esmee says. “But we don’t know what code it is.”

Eva leans over and says something in a language I don’t understand. Ernesta nods. “It’s a Baseggio puzzle box. The system behind it is ancient, but its encryption has only improved over time.”

“So how do we, uh…” I start, then realize I only sort of understand what they’re talking about, “open it?”

“You need a key.”

“What kind of key?” Percy asks.

Eva says something else, and Ernesta translates. “It could be anything. A word, in any language. Any combination of any kind of symbols. Images, sounds, shapes, colors, perhaps even things three-dimensional beings such as humans cannot even begin to comprehend. That’s why this type of puzzle boxes is so efficient. If you do not know the code, you can never decrypt it.”

I feel Percy’s disappointment, heavy like a stone falling into a river. “But we can’t,” he says. “The only person who knows the code has been taken into captivity by the Empire.”

Ernesta shakes her head. “Then you cannot decrypt this.”

  
  


As we head back across the boats, I hurry ahead a bit so I can walk next to Percy. “Is this really that much of a dead end? Are we giving up?”

“We don’t have a choice,” he replies. “We can’t get the code. Robles is locked up somewhere by the Empire, we have no idea where. We can’t reach him.”

With those grim words, we enter the boat cabin we originally came out of and end up back in the wooden storage room in the Market. Failure lies heavy on us all. I’m still looking for alternate solutions—I only just came up with a plan that would result in my return home. I refuse to give up so early.

Pascal closes the door behind us and turns the key in its lock. He’s about to head back outside when a bell rings. We freeze up.

“Just a customer,” he says quietly, though he doesn’t seem very reassured either. “Wait here.”

We all move aside so we won’t be visible when Pascal exits. He casts one more glance over his shoulder, then goes outside, carefully closing the door behind him.

The cabin has no windows so we can’t see what’s going on outside. I sneak toward the door, ignoring Percy’s warning glare, and lean in to listen.

“Good afternoon, sir,” Pascal says. There’s some scraping of wood as he sits back down. “Can I help you with anything?”

The voice that replies halts my heart. “ _Yes, I think you might._ ”

I clap a hand in front of my mouth not to audibly gasp for breath.  _What is it?_ Percy asks, sensing my panic. I can see he wants to move forward, but he’s scared of making a noise.

_It’s the Duke!_ I half-shout.

Percy’s eyes widen.  _Are you sure?_

_Yes!_ I’d recognize that voice, metal scraping metal, anywhere.

“ _Are the three individuals that entered your cabinet earlier still in there?_ ” the Duke asks, and it takes everything in me not to dramatically flail to the ground. _He knows we’re here!_

Percy nods, looking pale. Esmee is looking between us, gesturing to tell her what’s going on. “The Duke,” Percy tells her soundlessly. The tattoo on his shoulder lights up, and the armored glove traveling down his arm and settling around his hand, ready to summon the shield.

Pascal, admirably, keeps sounding perfectly calm. “Who?”

“ _Don’t take me for a fool,_ ” the Duke says. “ _My men saw them enter._ ”

“Then, with all due respect, they must be mistaken, sir. A trick of the light, perhaps. The fog here is strange, people see all sorts of things _–_ ”

“ _Enough. I’m searching that cabin._ ”

“He’s coming in here!” I scream-whisper. We’re exchanging panicked glances. This place only has one door, there’s no way out _–_

My eye falls on the key Pascal used to take us to the fleet of boats on the river. It sits in the keyhole, unobtrusive and small.

“On what grounds, sir?” Pascal asks.

“ _Imperial orders_. _They have stolen from the Empire._ ”

“The Market doesn’t fall under the Empire’s jurisdiction. I see no reason _–_ ”

There’s a sound I can’t place outside,  the whirring of a charging gun, followed by the scraping of a chair. “ _Is this reason enough?_ ”

There’s a thin waver of fear in Pascal’s voice. “…Yes. Of course. Follow me.”

I point at the key, silently communicating with Percy and Esmee. They realize what I mean, and start nodding, joining me. The footsteps outside are coming closer. I turn the key in the lock, pulling open the door and running through, onto the sun-warmed deck of the boat. Percy and Esmee fall through after me, slamming the door shut.

We quietly inch away from the door, still ready for the bounty hunter to come through and attack us. On the boats around us, people watch us with confusion and mild interest.

We wait like that for what seems like an eternity. Esmee has pulled out her bow and has an arrow trained on the door, ready for whatever comes through.

Perhaps ten minutes later, we hear the lock. The knob turns, and we brace ourselves _–_

It’s only Pascal.

As one, we exhale.

“Is he gone?” Esmee asks, and finally lowers her bow when Pascal nods.

I slump back. “Good Lord,” I say. “I thought we were done for.”

Percy lets out a breathy laugh. “Me too. Good of you to think of the key, Monty."

I grin broadly, but my moment of pride is cut short when Pascal says, “It was risky. You could have led him here.”

Our relief and joy for having escaped instantly dim. “There was nowhere else to go,” I still try without much conviction.

“I know.” Pascal sighs, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. “Nothing happened. Let’s be grateful for that. I’d still like you to leave, now.”


	11. A Call

“I still don’t understand how he found us!” I exclaim, in the middle of telling Sim about our mission. We’re standing in a computer room on one of the higher levels. “Didn’t we take literally every possible precaution?”

“I’m not surprised,” Sim says, one elbow on the arm rest and her chin on her fist. “The Empire’s everywhere.”

“But it wasn’t the Empire, it was a bounty hunter,” I argue. Percy rolls his eyes. “I know he claimed he had imperial orders, but anyone could go around saying that. It doesn’t prove anything.”

Sim stares at me, disturbed, like she wants to argue but decides against it. “But you all made it out without too much trouble?”

“Yeah, thanks to Monty.” Percy briefly summarizes our narrow escape and I feel very good about myself for a few minutes. Sim’s frowning, like me being behind a good idea simply sounds unrealistic. When Percy’s done, she leans back with a sigh. “Well, at least we tried.”

I look between them, wearing mirror expressions of defeat. “We’re not giving up, are we?”

Sim raises an eyebrow. “Why do you even care? Us getting the coordinates to that Heart could lead to the direct destruction of your Empire. You’re aware of that, right?”

“I know.” I don’t entirely believe that, and it’s further away in the future than me returning home, so it’s no immediate concern of mine.

Sim’s eyes narrow at me. “I don’t trust you, Montague. I’m tolerating you being here, for Percy’s sake, but if I catch even a whiff of you spying on us, I will make you regret it.”

“All right, that’s enough, thank you, Sim.” Percy steps between us, for which I’m thankful—I don’t want to admit I’m scared of Sim, but I’m not exactly not-scared of her either. “Monty knows all that,” Percy continues in my direction. “As long as we treat him properly, he won’t use any of this against us, right?”

“Sure.” I wave away his concerns. “But back to the point: how are we getting at the Heart?”

“Weren’t you listening?” Sim says. “We can’t. Only Robles has the code and we’ve no idea where to find him.”

“What about his son?” I think back of the awkward guy explaining us the Heart’s potential. “Wouldn’t he know the code?”

“Dante’s the first person we asked. He has no clue.”

“Hmpf. Okay, so we need to find Robles himself. How do we do that?”

“…We can’t,” Percy says. “The Empire could’ve hidden him anywhere. If…” He falters. “We don’t even know if he’s still alive.”

I chew on my lip, deep in thought. There  _has_ to be a way. This can’t be the end of it.

“It’s probably better this way,” Sim says. “We had no way of using the Heart’s energy. The most important thing is that the coordinates stay out of the Empire’s hands, and we’ve succeeded at that.” She picks up the box and turns it mindlessly around in her hand. “I suppose there’s nothing left to do but to store it away safely.”

“We can’t give up!” I protest.

They both look at me in surprise.

“It’s all right, we’ll find another _–_ ” Percy starts.

I put up my hand. “No. This was it. There has to be something else we can do! What if we _–_ ”

A beeping noise draws our attention to the screens that are now flickering red. Sim pulls her chair closer to the keyboard and starts typing.

“What’s going on?” Percy asks.

I join them at the screens. Sim’s jaw sets. “Someone’s trying to hack into our servers.” When neither of us says a word, she adds, “Our security system’s strong enough, they can’t get through. But I am curious which imperial bastard is behind this.” She hits a key, and a screen pops up, speakers starting to broadcast noise at low volume. The view we’re getting is from a computer’s webcam. It’s a dark room, and up front there’s not one but two familiar faces, lit by the screen’s light, that definitely don’t belong to Empire officials.

One belongs to a hook-up from my Eton days, lovely blue-eyed Sinjon Westfall. The other belongs to my sister.

“Felicity?!” I move closer to the screen. I’m so confused by this entire situation—two people who I didn’t even know were aware of each other’s existence, working together to… hack into the Crown and Cleaver? Sinjon’s a pretty good hacker—it’s how he used to smuggle alcohol into Eton—that I know, but…

“Are you getting through?” Felicity asks.

Sinjon’s brow is furrowed. “I’m trying, but this is some of the strongest security I’ve ever seen.”

“Felicity!” I’m waving my arms. “Can you hear me?”

Percy and Sim give me funny looks. “She can’t,” Sim says. “They don’t even know they’re being watched.”

“Can I talk to them?”

“So you can tell them where you are? Absolutely not.”

“They won’t tell anyone, I promise.” After a bit over a week living with the rebels, I’m suddenly desperate for contact with anyone on the outside, even if that someone is my little sister. “They’re not even Empire officials. No one would probably believe them if they’d claim they talked to me.”

Sim looks to Percy, who looks doubtful. He shrugs at her. “Maybe it can’t hurt.”

Sim sighs in defeat, then points at me in threat. “Any word about our missions or secrets and you’re done for.”

“Yes, yes, fine.”

After scrutinizing me for a long time, watching for signs I might betray them if given half the chance but not finding any, Sim hits a key with great reluctance. In the corner of the screen, a smaller window pops up, where I can see the room and us in it. In the other window, Felicity and Sinjon pull back in surprise.

“Did it work?” Felicity asks.

Sinjon shakes his head. “No. This is a direct line that they set up.”

“…Can they see us?”

“Yes, we can,” Sim deadpans.

“Shut it down!” Felicity yells, and Sinjon starts typing like mad.

I dart forward. “No! Felicity! Wait!”

“I don’t want to hear it, you rebel trash. First of all, it’s ‘Your Highness’, second, I know damn well it was you who kidnapped my brother, and third, you will all pay for it, and _fourth_ _–_ ”

“No, Felicity!” I rip off my mask. “It’s me!”

They both stop dead in their tracks. Felicity frowns, moving closer to the screen. “Henry?”

“Yes, it’s me. Hello, dear sister. Can you believe the last thing you said to me before I got kidnapped was that I’m insufferable?”

“I can and I stand by it.” She crosses her arms. “What in the _galaxy_ are you doing there?”

“What am I doing? What are _you_ two doing?”

“We’re hacking into the Crown and Cleaver. Obviously,” Felicity says.

Beside her, Sinjon does a little wave with an awkward smile. “Hey, Henry.”

“Hi Sinjon! That’s been a while. How are you?”

His eyes flit to Felicity. “I’m being threatened. You?”

“What a coincidence! So am I.”

Felicity rolls her eyes, and I suddenly get a strange sensation of my heart swelling up. I think I… missed her? “I  _knew_ the Crown and Cleaver had actually kidnapped you, but Father refused to listen and none of the official hackers were willing to help me. So I searched your room _–_ ”

“Hey!” I protest, my mind making a quick list of all things in my room that I _definitely_ don’t want my sister to see.

She ignores me. “ _–_ compiled a list of people you knew and contacted them, just to make sure you didn’t orchestrate the whole thing to be a pain in the ass. I never thought you would’ve, because you’re not smart enough for that, but I figured I could double check. Then I came across Sinjon’s contact information. I realized he was a hacker not working for the Empire, so I recruited him into helping me.”

We’re all stunned into silence for a while. Sim says, “Wow. I’m impressed, actually.”

“Who are you?” Felicity asks.

“Sim. I’ve had to deal with this moron for the past week.”

“My condolences.”

“All right, all right.” I step between them, putting my hands up at both sides. “No need to get along. You’re enemies, remember.”

“Yes, and you’re supposed to be an enemy of the Crown and Cleaver,” Felicity says. “So, once again, _what_ are you doing there?”

I look at Sim and Percy, unsure what I’m allowed to say. When all they have to offer in return is a shrug, I say, “Well, I was certainly kidnapped.”

“By the Crown and Cleaver. I knew it!” Felicity sounds so smug I feel the need to correct her.

“Technically it wasn’t the Crown and Cleaver. Just him.” I point at Percy, who takes a step back.

“Absolutely,” Sim cuts in. “The Crown and Cleaver would never do anything of the sorts. But unfortunately there’s been a… _misunderstanding_ …” She glares at Percy, who goes a little red. “…and we’re still figuring out how to return him without causing a direct interstellar war.”

Felicity sighs deeply. “Henry. Why do you always get yourself into this kind of situations?”

“Wh _–_ _Me?_ _I’m_ the victim here! I didn’t do anything!”

“I doubt that.”

I want to argue, but at that moment, Percy asks,  _Who’s he?_

_Hm? Sinjon?_ I look back, and Percy nods slightly.  _Oh. Well. Remember when I got kicked out of boarding school for gambling, alcohol abuse, and… a relationship with a certain other guy?_

I see understanding dawn on his features. His mouth falls open, first in surprise, then in indignation. He tips his chin at the screen.  _Him?!_

“I still don’t understand,” Felicity says. “You don’t look imprisoned.”

“He isn’t,” Sim says. “As much as I can’t stand the Empire, we’re not looking for trouble. At least, not in this way. Your brother is being treated as well as the circumstances allow it.”

Felicity looks at me, brow furrowed, waiting for confirmation of those words. I shrug. “Yeah, I’m fine, Feli. I’m not exactly getting comfortable, but I’ll live.”

“Hmpf.” Felicity leans back. “So you _don’t_ need a rescue operation?”

I hesitate. This might be my one chance to cry for help. But, really? In spite of the lethal danger and fraternizing with the enemy? I realize I don’t really mind the time I’m spending with these rebels. “Nah, don’t worry. I’ve got everything under control.”

“Henry, you’ve never once in your life had anything under control.”

From behind me, Percy says, “It’s true.”

I sent him a betrayed look. He shrugs apologetically.

Felicity purses her lips, eyes narrowed, as if she’s still making up her mind. Then she puts up her hands in defeat. “Fine. I won’t send the Imperial Fleet after you.” Even though she really doesn’t have that kind of power. Then she adds sharply, “On one condition.”

Sim sits up straight, clearly sensing where this situation is headed. “What condition?”

“This line stays open,” she says decidedly. “Henry will always be able to contact us here. _You have our word_ ,” she stresses, when Sim wants to argue, “that the Empire won’t hear about this. I trust we’ll be able to work out some sort of understanding resulting in my brother being returned home. Until then, I want to make sure you stick to your end of the deal.”

I very much like the sound of this—I’ll take all the insurance I can get to make it out of this safe and sound—but it’s not up to me to decide. Sim thinks about it for a long time. “You don’t tell anyone, we don’t tell anyone,” she says eventually. “And in the end, we all get what we want.”

Felicity nods with the certainty of a battle-hardened strategist, and in that moment, I’m ambushed by a strange feeling of pride.

Briefly.

“Deal,” Sim says.

This really benefits everyone, I think. We could use some help on the inside.

Felicity rests her head on her hand, leaning on the desk. “You know, I really was just planning on waiting for them to give you back willingly,” she tells me.

“But here you are, reassuring yourself of my safety.” I press my palm to my chest, expression open and innocent for maximum drama. “Felicity, do you _care_ about your older brother?”

She pulls a face at me.

My thoughts have gotten stuck a few moments earlier, though.  _Some help on the inside._ “Sinjon,” I say, “Can you hack into imperial servers, too?”

As Sinjon’s been sort of awkwardly keeping himself at the sides in this conversation, he starts. “Um. I suppose. Why?”

A smile is forming on my face. “Could you retrieve one particular piece of information for us?”

Percy and Sim realize what I’m planning. They both looked stunned, like they’re not sure how to respond to this.

Sinjon hesitates, glancing sideways at Felicity. “What kind of information?”

“The Empire captured a rebel scientist, a while ago,” I say. “A Mateu Robles. I’d like to know where he’s being held.”

Felicity squints at me. “Why?”

“It’s part of my plan.”

She raises one eyebrow so high it looks ridiculous. “Your  _plan_ ?”

I ignore her jape. “My plan to get back home. Trust me.”

She stares at me for a long time, trust rather absent from her features. Then she shrugs lightly. “Look it up,” she tells Sinjon, who starts typing.

It takes a few minutes of frowning at his screen, but eventually, Sinjon perks up. “Here we go. The Peripheral Astridium Mines. Quadrant 451-d.”

I bite my lip to hold back a grin, but it’s no use. I turn to Sim and Percy and announce proudly, “And  _that’s_ where we’re gonna get our code.”

I am not met with the joy and gratitude and  _Oh my God Monty that was so smart great job now we can go get the code and unlock the box and get the coordinates!_ I deserve to be met with. Instead, it’s with two horrified expressions.

“The Mines,” Percy says slowly.

“Well.” Sim lets herself fall back in her chair. “That was a fun five minutes of hope. But I guess not.”

I frown at them. “Why not?”

Percy puts a hand on my shoulder. “There’s no getting into the Mines, Monty. The only thing more heavily guarded than the Mines is the Royal Palace.”

“ _Mines?_ What’s so important about them?”

“Astridium.”

I huff. “Well, there has to be a way!”

Percy puts his other hand on my other shoulder, too, and gives me a sad smile. “I want to get those coordinates as badly as you do, but you have to face it.”

“No.”

“Coordinates?” Felicity’s voice interrupts us, and we both start. “What are you two talking about? And Henry, _why_ are you suddenly getting along with your kidnapper?”

I give her a peeved look. “Firstly, it’s none of your business, and secondly, Percy here is my soulmate, so I’ll get along with him all I want.”

Percy goes red. Felicity and Sinjon gape at me.

“Y-your _what_?” Sinjon squeaks.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” Felicity says.

“That was my initial reaction, too,” Sim responds dryly.

Felicity struggles for words for a while, and I can’t tell if she’s angry or just really, really confused. When she finally manages to say something, it’s, “Since  _when_ do you have a soulmate?”

“Since I was born?”

“Since you _–_ ” She cuts off her sentence there, taking a deep breath to collect herself. The effect lasts about a second. “But _–_ but he’s a _rebel_ _!_ ”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“But that’s _–_ it’s _–_ that doesn’t make any sense. It’s not like you can _be_ together, or anything. Unless you want to run off and join the rebels.”

There’s a test in that sentence, and I rise up to meet it. “Of course not! I _–_ ” I’m distracted by a stab of pain going through Percy. When I look at him, his face is perfectly neutral, though. I sigh, then address Felicity again. “We didn’t get to  _choose_ , all right? We’re just… dealing with it.”

I sneak another glance at Percy, a little worried I might’ve said something wrong. We’ve created this precarious balance between us, ever since our conversation on the deck, and I’m suddenly terrified of toppling that over again. He catches my eye, but looks away just as quickly.

“Ugh.” Felicity sighs. “This is why the whole soulmate thing never made sense to me. It’s scientifically a mess.”

That gets a chuckle out of me. “Good to hear from you, Felicity.”


	12. Pursuit

“It does make sense,” Percy’s saying, as we’re heading back to our room after dinner, and I’ve once again brought up the Mines. “Not only because it’s so heavily guarded. Also because a laboratory would require a lot of energy. So why not hide one directly at a source?”

“I suppose.” I’ve been thinking about it non-stop for days, ever since we found out Robles is being held captive there. Sim has made it very clear we’ll never get a mission authorized to go there and get the code, but I’m determined. There has to be a way.

“On one hand, we know he’s alive, so that’s good,” Percy continues. “But on the other hand, him being stuck there implies they’re actually making him do something. _Build_ something.”

“Like that device to harness the Heart’s energy?”

Percy nods with a sigh. “Afraid so.”

“See? All the more reason to get him out of there! If the Empire has that device _–_ ”

“They can’t do anything with it without the Heart’s coordinates,” Percy argues, as we turn a corner and the base’s lights switch to night mode. It’s evening, and there’s barely anyone around. “Maybe… Maybe it’s more risky to actually try and get at them than to do nothing.”

“But _–_ ” I’m not entirely sure what I want to say. Can’t there be anyone on my side about this? I step in front of him and stop him. “Think about it. You rebels only stumbled across the Heart by accident, right? So what’s to say the Empire won’t do that either? The universe is big, but not endless, and the Empire has resources. Sooner rather than later they’ll find it and then you’re done for. But we can prevent that by _beating them to it_.”

Percy bites his lip. “I… I don’t know, Monty. It’s late. Let’s head to bed and think about it in the morning.” He starts walking again, then stops. “Wait. I mean, Henry. Sorry.” He laughs awkwardly. “Looks like I’m a bit too caught up in our little ruse.”

I shrug. “Eh. Monty’s fine. Never really liked Henry, anyway.”

Saying that gives me an odd feeling, and Percy senses it, too. Some fondness finds its way into his smile. “All right, then. Monty.”

We continue our walk in comfortable silence, until we pass by the docks and Percy suddenly backs up. “Wait! Let me drop by the Eleftheria real quick. I forgot my fiddle there.”

I frown at him as we enter the vast hall. It’s dimly lit, the spaceships almost silhouettes, and strange without its usual bustle of activity. “I thought you always kept that thing with you.”

“Normally I do,” he replies. “But I wanted to practice this morning and you were still asleep, so I took it to the ship. And then I forgot.”

“Aw, Perce. That’s so sweet.”

He gives me a half-hearted shove. “Oh, hush.”

“You should play for me sometime, though. So I can hear for myself if you’re really as good as you claim to be.”

“I’ve never claimed that.”

“No, that’s true. Just that you started playing when you were basically a toddler and that you try to practice a few hours every day and that you dream of doing concerts one day.”

He scoffs. “That’s still not claiming I’m good.”

“Yes, but _logically_ , you have to be. What else are these callouses for?” I shove my hand in his face to show him. They’re not technically callouses, not like he has, they’re just a little more numb thanks to his years of violin practice. Percy bats me away, laughing.

“Fine. But you’ll have to remind me.”

We arrive at the ship and I follow him inside. He doesn’t turn on the lights, just heads straight for the cockpit and picks up his violin case, double checking the latches. I join him, mindlessly poking around the dashboards. He watches me with a small smile. “Want to give it a go?”

“What? Piloting a spaceship? Hell no.”

“It’s really not that hard, you know. I flew my first spaceship when I was nine.”

He’s trying to play it cool, but I can tell he’s showing off. So I reply loudly, “You know, that  _would_ sound really impressive, except I still remember you were so scared you threw up afterward, so.”

Percy opens his mouth to argue, indignant but amused. “I wasn’t bragging!”

“Sure, darling.”

“I mean, I’m a decent pilot. I’m not gonna lie about that. Everyone here knows that.”

I lean back against the panels, wrinkling my nose at him. “Everyone here loves you. Of course they’ll say that.”

“It’s the truth.”

I cast my eyes down, mimicking indifference but I can’t keep the smile off my face. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Percy considers me for a long time, arms crossed. Then he sits up. “All right, you know what? There’s an asteroid field halfway down the system. I’ll show you.”

I give him my most innocent, oh-but-we-can’t-go-against-the-rules look, complete with pout and big eyes. “I thought there was a curfew.”

The amused smile on his face breaks into something wicked as he pulls his chair closer to the console. A few buttons, and the lights go on. “They won’t notice we’re gone.”

As we take off, I can imagine it. A childhood growing up with a partner in crime, not just a voice in my head either encouraging me or being exasperated by me, but a physically present friend to get in and out of all sorts of trouble with. The thought makes me giddy.

As quiet as a spaceship can be, we lift off and fly toward the metal doors. Percy taps a few buttons on the dashboard and—far too loudly—the doors open. I flinch, checking the rear view cameras, but no one’s coming. Adrenaline’s rushing through my veins and it’s a wonderful feeling—everything else be damned, right now I’m sneaking out with a friend to do something we’re not supposed to, and I love it.

Once we’re outside and the doors are closing again, I sigh in relief, slumping against the back of Percy’s chair. He glances up, hands preoccupied with the controls, and grins at me. “Prepare to be amazed.”

“Oh, I’m prepared,” I tell him. “You just make sure there’s something to be amazed _at_.”

“Count on it.”

We pass through the base’s artificial atmosphere, and then we pick up speed. From behind the masts, the sun peeks through, painting its light onto the few planets I can see. In a few minutes, we’ve passed the closest one by—pink with rings and a couple moons—and I realize Percy’s headed for the asteroid belt separating it from the next. Its rocks are rather numerous and dense and, as I see when we get closer, move rather fast.

“Uh. You want to fly through _that_?” I point, when Percy slows down the ship.

He tilts his head back to look up at me, grinning. “Getting cold feet? We could still return home, if you want.”

“Wh _–_ scared? _Me?_ ” Yes, I am. “Ah, I see how it is. You’re trying to back out of this, supposedly for my sake.”

“Absolutely _not_. I just figured I’d double check. So: last chance.”

I scoff. “You mean,  _your_ last chance to admit you’re actually not such a great pilot and wouldn’t last a minute in that thing?”

There’s a mischievous glint in his eye before he leans over the dashboard again. “All right, then.”

The ship falls back into motion, and I grip the back of his chair. Percy stops again when we’re only a few yards away from the outer asteroids. Whenever one passes by, the ship is slightly pulled along with it, movement Percy compensates by steering a bit in the other direction. He’s looking focused.

“What are you waiting for?” I ask, hoping he’s changed his mind after all.

“An opening.” He pulls up an extra screen, showing the asteroids approaching from our right. “There it is. All right, hold on tight.”

“Hold on to _what_?” I squeak, gripping the chair tighter.

He hits the gas, and I’m almost thrown back. We dive into the asteroid belt, picking up speed  _fast_ , and suddenly there’s rocks absolutely everywhere, and they’re going fast and  _we’re_ going fast and I am convinced I am going to die. Percy narrowly dodges countless asteroids, the ship jerking to one side, then the other, and I’m less standing on my feet and more clinging to the chair. A particularly large rock appears in front of us and Percy dives to the left, temporarily exiting the stream, then back in, accelerating as we pass by asteroids. It seems to last an eternity.

Finally, the rocks thin out, and Percy pulls out of the asteroid belt. We drift toward the system’s center for a while as we slow down. I’m panting, all my muscles still clenched, my heart racing.

Percy folds his hands behind his head and leans back into it with a smug smile. “Convinced?”

I’m still in no state to reply.

“Usually I go _against_ the stream instead of along with it,” he says, “but I figured since it was your first time I shouldn’t scare you too badly.”

I finally untangle myself from the back of the chair to give him a shove against the shoulder. “You  _bastard_ .”

Percy bursts out laughing. “You asked for it!”

“I did _not_!” I protest. “You wanted to show off and almost got us killed!”

“I did not almost get us killed. I knew what I was doing.”

“So you _claim_.”

“We didn’t crash into anything, did we?”

“I almost got a heart attack!”

“Just ‘cause you didn’t trust me.”

“Bullshit. Get me back to the base right now.”

“All right, all right.” Percy puts up one hand in defeat. He turns back to the console, not looking half as contrite as he should be. That mischievous shimmer is still in his eye, and now I’m catching my breath, I’m… realizing that I’m really fond of it. Really fond of him.

The ship starts back up and I almost fall over.

As we head back to the base, Percy recounts some stories of the races he usually participates in. Or—used to. Not as often anymore. When I ask him why, he falters.

“The epilepsy,” he says, eyes cast down. “It’s perfectly safe, the Eleftheria—and, honestly, almost every spaceship these days—has an automatic pilot built in, in case something happens, and I keep telling them that. They just… get overprotective.”

“Because they love you,” I say softly. I lean in, wrapping my arms around him from behind. I don’t realize I’ve done something out of the ordinary until he freezes up. He relaxes again right away, though.

He shrugs lightly. “I suppose.”

There’s a  _blip!_ coming from the dashboard, and we both look up. Percy frowns over a screen that’s just a raster with a few differently-sized dots on it, moving around slowly.

“What is it?” I ask.

“The sensors picked up on something nearby,” he says.

“Um.” I glance up, to the pirate ship coming closer quickly. “The base?”

He shakes his head. “No, see, the base is this.” He points at a large dot, then at two smaller ones close to it. “What are these two things?”

“Some other Crown and Cleaver ships?” I offer.

“It’s past curfew.”

“Maybe someone had the same idea we did.”

Percy looks between the screen and the windshield a few times. “We should be able to see them. They should be right there, between us and the base.”

“Could it be an error?” I ask.

“I’m not sure.” He hits a few buttons. “I’m hiding us, just in case.”

The computer informs us the invisibility shields are now operational, and we slowly creep toward where the two mysterious objects should be. When we’re hovering right in front of them and still not seeing anything, I say, “Welp. Error it is.”

“Wait!” Percy points in front of us, towards an open patch of space. “There!”

I lean in, looking intently, but all I see is distant stars. Then something shifts — or rather, nothing, because I don’t see anything, aside from space warping briefly. “What is  _that_ ?”

Percy has started backing away slowly. “Two ships, invisible. Probably the Empire. We have to leave before they realize we’re here.”

“The Empire? What are they doing here?”

“Let’s find out.” He pulls up another screen, taps a few things in rapid succession, and the next thing I see on it is a set of axis with a line dancing over them. It’s audio. There’s static for a while as numbers jump by, eventually settling on one, then it creaks to life.

“… _starving_.”

“ _God, me too. That prank we played on Lieutenant Smith was fun, but was it really worth getting stationed out here?_ ”

It’s two voices, one for each of the ships. Percy and I fall quiet.

“ _Only four more hours until the shift’s over._ ”

“ _Ugh. Four hours._ ”

“ _When you sign up for the Academy and they tell you you’re gonna get to fight rebels, you really don’t consider it might involve staking out and logging their every move._ ”

The other laughs. “ _We all gotta play our part in this war. Did you hear anything from the Duke today?_ ”

“ _Just that we gotta keep watching._ ”

Percy and I look at each other.  _This is how he knew we were at the Market_ , I say.

He nods, expression earnest.  _The Empire’s watching us again._

_They work for the Duke, not the Empire_ , I say, which gets me an eye roll.

_Monty, they’re Empire ships! Rogues don’t have ranks, or Academies! The Duke works for them!_

I bite my lip. There has to be a logical explanation for this.  _Maybe the Empire doesn’t know he’s a bounty hunter_ , I argue.  _Or maybe it was a_ desperate measures  _kind of thing. Or maybe it’s just these agents that are working a double agenda._

Percy gives me a glare.  _Are you serious? You_ have  _to understand_ _–_

I hush him when the other ships’ pilots start talking again.

“ _Now, the Experimental Technologies division,_ that’s _interesting. My cousin works there and she gets to be involved in all kinds of fascinating stuff. Last week she was telling me about some sort of secret weapon they’re building._ ”

We exchange a baffled look.  _Secret weapon?_

“ _Psh. They’re always building some kind of secret weapon. Doesn’t make it interesting._ ”

“ _No, from what she told me it was the real deal! She signed an NDA and everything._ ”

“ _All right, then. What kind of secret weapon?_ ”

The other’s voice becomes conspiratory. “ _Well, you heard about that raid they did on a rebel lab, a month ago, right? Apparently those rebels were really onto something. The Empire took all their research and now they’re building this weapon for themselves._ ” He chuckles. “ _Serves those bastards right_ .”

_The device,_ Percy says, suddenly sounding frantic. _That could harness the Heart’s energy._ _From the Robleses’ lab. They’re really building it!_

“ _Wait. What’s that?_ ”

“ _What’s what?_ ”

“ _Radar’s picking up on something._ ”

Shared panicked runs through us. “Go, go, go!” I yell, as Percy trades a stealthy getaway for an escape that’s  _as fast as possible._

“ _Rebels!_ ” sounds over the radio frequency we’re listening in on, before it disconnects.

We speed up, and in the rear view cameras, the two ships—clearly bearing imperial crests—flicker into view. They know we’re there, even though we’re still invisible, they’re probably following us on their radars. One of them fires _–_

The whole ship rattles. We’re struck four times before Percy pulls up sharply and I have to hang on not to be thrown against the windshield. A variety of alarms starts blaring on the screens, demanding our attention, though Percy’s far too preoccupied with dodging. I read as much of the alerts as I can while being tossed around by the sharp turns we’re taking.

“Invisibility fields are down!” I shout. “They can see us!”

“I’m pulling up the shields,” Percy says. Two projectiles narrowly miss us on our right, and when Percy pulls aside, I stumble on my feet.

We round the rebel base’s hull, the edge getting hit right behind us. Percy loops around the prow, then heads into open space.

“Why aren’t we going back inside?” I ask, half-screaming to be heard over all the alarms. “Whatever shields the base’s got, it’s got to be better than what we have.”

Percy shakes his head. “Can’t. They’re too close behind us. We’re either gonna have to shake them or fight them off.”

I look around. There’s nothing for miles. The closest planet is at least ten minutes away at top speed. “Shake them  _where_ ?”

Percy wants to respond, but then we’re hit again. He pulls up. “I lost track of the second ship. Where _–_ ”

Another round of fire. Percy curses, turning to the left. In the rear view cameras, I see one ship, but the other might as well be invisible.

“D’you think he could have his invisibility fields up?” I ask.

“At this speed? No, that takes too much power. The engine would give out _–_ ”

“ _There!_ ” I yell, pointing straight ahead. The second ship appears and starts firing. Percy puts all his strength into pulling back the steering wheel as we go up. One blast hits us in the rear.

“We have to fire back,” Percy shouts. “But I can’t fire and fly at the same time.”

I briefly cease my panic to stare at him in dread. “Please don’t ask me to operate any weapons,” I say flatly.

Percy gives me a look.

Another blast rattles the ship. “ _Fuck!_ Fine!” I shout. “Where _–_ ”

Percy tips his head to the side. “Up that ladder.”

With great difficulty and clutching to the dashboard, I make it to the wall. The ladder is a pain in the ass to climb, being almost thrown off every time Percy takes a sharp turn. I manage to reach the latch, climb through, and find myself in a smaller version of the cockpit, straight above it. The windshield runs all the way up here, curving above the chair I let myself fall into.

In front of me there’s an entire panel full of all sorts of buttons, screens, controls and levers that mean absolutely nothing to me. I force myself to sit upright, then yell at Percy, “How does it work?!” When no reply comes from below, I repeat, “How does it-” Oh, nevermind.  _How does it work?!_

_See the thing that looks like a steering wheel in front of you?_

_Yeah._

_That’s how you aim. Pull it around, it’ll show your target on screen._

I do, a bit hesitantly. When I turn it a bit to the left, I see a red circle with lines through it move to the left on the windshield.

_Okay, I think I got it._

_There’s buttons on top you can press to fire the left and right guns._

I spot the left and right buttons. Experimentally, I press one. From the bottom of the ship, a projectile is fired, white with heat. I fall back into my chair as I stare at it disappear into the distance.

_Yes, that was it! I’ll try to get a good view._

When I reach out to take the wheel again, I notice my hands are trembling. My heartbeat’s raging in my ears.

This is crazy. This is crazy. This is crazy, this is crazy, this is _–_

The whole ship rattles again, and I almost pitch face forward into the dashboard. I grip the steerage so tightly my knuckles go white. There’s one ship in front of us, pulling up to turn around and shoot at us. I try to get it inside the little red vane, which proves far more difficult than video games have led me to believe. I’m constantly almost thrown aside, and if the imperial ship isn’t moving out of the way, we are. It’s nigh impossible.

We’re hit again.  _The shields can’t take much more, Monty! It’s now or never!_

I sit up straight, gritting my teeth. The second imperial ship comes into view, curving back around, planning to ambush us from the side.  _Turn to the right!_

Percy obeys, and I aim for it. Shakily, I manage to put it in the vane’s center, and press both buttons.

Several blasts fire in quick succession, the first missing, but a few hitting its mark. The imperial ship is pushed from its course, and it rolls onto its back before refinding its balance.

“Percy!” I scream. “I hit one! I hit one!”

_Awesome job!_ Percy shouts back.  _Keep it up!_

All right. I can do this. The ship I hit leaves my view on the right, clearly wanting to get out of the line of fire. I don’t even have to say anything, Percy steers to the side, and then it’s in view again, and just like that, the hunters have become the hunted. I fire again, and miss as he dives to dodge. I readjust, and the next time I fire, he takes several hits.

The ship clatters, and I realize we’re being shot at from behind.

_That one seems pretty insistent on trailing behind me_ , Percy says, as he turns around but the second ship still doesn’t come into view.  _Can you fire from behind?_

I blink.  _Can I?_

_There’s a yellow button on your left_ .

I reach out, my hand hovering over it.  _The one with the little triangle on it?_

_Wh_ _–_ _NO!_ Percy shouts, a spike of panic so intense it makes me pull back.  _That’s the self destruct button!_

My jaw drops. “ _Why do you even have a self destruct button?!_ ” I scream, half-hysterical.

Percy calms himself.  _Technically it’s not a self destruct button, it’s just the air conditioning, but at the speed we’re going, the extra heat on the outside that would generate could inflame the fuel tank and_ _–_

_I don’t care, where’s the button I_ am  _supposed to press?_

_Left! Under the row of levers!_

I finally find it and hit it. A new screen pops up, and I realize it’s showing me what’s behind the ship. A similar red vane dances around on screen.

_There’s a switch on the side of the steering wheel_ , Percy says.  _Left side. Flip it, and you can use it to aim behind._

I follow his instructions, and indeed, the vane on the second screen starts responding. I’m about to take a shot from behind when the imperial ship I’m aiming at fires at us. Percy makes a looping and I have to brace myself not to fall against the ceiling. As soon as we’re back right side up, I fire a few more rounds. The ship is hit dead on a number of times as it tries to pull away, but in that moment, one of its wings detaches and it’s sent spinning away.

_YES!_ I cheer.  _Ha! Bet they didn’t see that one coming!_

I’m pulled from my celebrations when the remaining imperial ship ambushes us from the front and we take several hits to the windshield. I flinch back, pulling my hands up to protect my face as bright white light impacts the front of our ship. We cant to the side and I think we’re doing a successful evasion maneuver, but then we keep spinning and I’m tossed against the wall.

_Percy?!_

_I’m fine_ , his reply comes a few moments later.  _Give me a moment._

The ship keeps rolling over, during which I need all my strength and focus to brace myself and not be thrown through this entire room. Finally, it stops, and with a turn we’re away again. I make my way back to the chair, teeth gritted and thinking,  _God, I hate spaceships._

We turn around, and the next moment, the rebel base is back into view. We’re a long end away from it but we’re accelerating fast.

_The second ship is going to try and help the one you shot_ , Percy tells me.  _That’s when we escape._

I look at the rear view cameras, and indeed, the second ship is diving after its spinning friend. I watch them for a while as we head straight back, barely able to let myself believe that we’re going to make it out of this. Then I see something small and round separating itself from the damaged ship, and the other one comes after us again.

_I think they used the escape pod_ , I say, the panic that was briefly settling spiking back up.  _Either way, the other one’s coming after us._

_Shit._

I start to aim, which is somehow far easier when we’re not constantly taking turns or hits.  _Do you want me to shoot him?_

_Wait. I’ve got an idea._

He hits the brakes, and I almost hit my head on the console.  _Ugh! What gives?!_

_I’m putting up the invisibility fields again._

_I thought they were damaged?_

_They are, but if we don’t fly too fast, they might last another few minutes._

I watch as a glitch travels over the windshield. We move down.  _Won’t they just be able to see us on their radar?_

_Not if we act fast._

I’m starting to see what he’s getting at.  _All right._

Percy makes a loop, slowly, and I hadn’t even noticed how dizzy I  am until the world stop s spinning and I realize my vision still is. I blink a few times, trying to clear my head.  _Deep breaths,_ Percy tells me.

We’re now hovering a bit underneath where we deviated from our course. The remaining imperial ship tailing us catches up, slowing down as it can’t see us anymore. I’m aiming for the spot right above us and wait.

Breathing in.

Breathing out.

In.

And out.

He slows to a stop, right at the heart of the vane. He’s confused where we are. I don’t hesitate, pressing the buttons atop the steerage. He takes hits for almost twenty full seconds before he manages to move out of the way, but as he still hasn’t gained any speed, he remains an easy target. A wide array of parts, most notably the wings and what I think is part of the engine, is blown away from the ship. Percy starts the Eleftheria back up and we head for the base again. In the rear view cameras, I see an escape pod leaving the imperial ship, barely ten seconds before it explodes.

  
  


The big metal doors are still sliding shut far too loudly when we climb out of the ship, giddy and hushing each other. Every time it makes a particularly loud noise, we jump and burst out laughing again. I feel amazing. Adrenaline is still coursing through me, though it’s starting to fade. I’m still shaking, honestly, almost tripping over myself and over Percy. It feels a bit like being drunk, except not at all.

“I can’t believe we just did that!” I say, to which Percy claps a hand over my mind with a, “Shhh!”

_I can’t believe we just did that!_ I repeat.  _I thought we were done for so many times!_

Percy, hypocrite that he is, replies out loud. “It was insane. Amazing. You _–_ ” He stops, blush creeping up. “Um. You did pretty good, I guess.”

I elbow him with a grin. “Not so bad yourself. I’m never questioning your piloting skills again.”

He snorts. “I’m glad that’s today’s lesson.”

The gates finally close all the way, the last screeching of metal reverberating through the hall. We find the pathway in the middle and head for the exit.

“Okay,” Percy whispers. “Now all we have to do is get back to our room and pretend none of this ever happened.”

“That none of _what_ ever happened?”

We freeze. I grab Percy’s wrist. Behind us, someone’s waiting in the shadows of the Eleftheria, walking toward us as we slowly turn. He’s got his arms crossed and looks very,  _very_ not happy.

“Scipio!” Percy says, forcing a light tone. “Wh… What are you doing here?”

“I’d been asked to check on one of the ships,” he says, stopping in front of us. “Then I heard the doors opening.”

“Th-the doors?” Percy still tries innocently.

I’m not really listening. My pulse is skyrocketing and I sort of want to run away. I think Percy senses it, for he glances aside and takes the hand I’m still clutching his wrist with in his own, squeezing once.  _He’s not actually mad_ , he says.  _I promise._

Scipio sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What happened to the Eleftheria?”

“The Eleftheria? Nothing happened. She’s fine.” Percy vaguely waves toward it, still keeping that sheepish smile in place.

To accentuate his words, one of the outside panels of the ship surrenders and hits the ground with a metallic  _clank!_ , a puff of dark smoke rising from where it was once attached.

“It wasn’t our fault!” I argue. “We got shot at by imperial ships!”

Percy grimaces and buries his face in his free hand.

“I see,” Scipio says. “And how did the Empire manage to shoot at the Eleftheria, since it’s…” he ostentatiously checks the time on his communicator, “…eleven o’clock and we’ve got an 8 p.m. curfew, so logically the ship should’ve been inside?”

“We snuck out,” Percy admits, something of regret and defiance in his tone. “Just for a short while! But then we found out there were Empire ships hiding close by who have been watching us! It’s how they knew we were at the Market. We overheard them talking _–_ ”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Some anger bleeds through his tone, and I flinch. I’m not sure if he noticed it, but he softens regardless. He sounds weary. “You could’ve _died_.”

“But we didn’t,” Percy still protests, albeit meekly.

“Yes,” I cut in, deciding it’s time to pull my weight in avoiding whatever trouble we’re in for now. “A horrifying experience, really. I think we learned our lesson, didn’t we? We certainly won’t be doing _that_ again. In my humble opinion, our narrow avoidance of a certain death was plenty enough retribution for our actions.”

I pitch my voice a little, trying to look pitiful. Scipio doesn’t buy it for a minute. “You’re both on dishes duty. For two weeks.”

“ _What?!_ ” we exclaim.

“Just because we _–_ ”

“ _–_ lethal _danger_ _–_ ”

“ _–_ uncovered an Empire conspiracy! _–_ ”

“ _–_ it was an accident _–_ ”

“ _–_ could’ve died _–_ ”

“Enough.” He looks stern, but now I’m starting to realize he’s sort of playing the part, hiding the fact that he’s… worried. “You can tell me all about this Empire conspiracy when you help me fix up the Eleftheria tomorrow.” That part’s directed at Percy. “Now, go to bed, the both of you. Don’t let me catch you doing anything like this every again.”

_Next time, we’ll make sure we won’t get caught_ , I think without meaning to, and beside me, Percy gives a snort of laughter. He looks alarmed by it. I’m having trouble keeping the smirk of my face, too.

Scipio had already turned away, but now he glances back. Percy masks it unconvincingly as a cough. When Scipio doesn’t say anything, we turn around and walk toward the exit with measured pace. He’s still watching us, and I’m biting my lip and using all the restraint I have in me not to break into laughter. Percy’s not doing much better, practically strangling my hand between us and we keep bumping shoulders.

About halfway between the Eleftheria and the door, we can’t take it anymore. We burst out laughing and start running.

  
  


A rebel base housing a few hundred rebels, most of which eat about three meals a day, produces an absurd amount of dishes. We’ve been at it for hours, and we still haven’t even gotten to the plates from dinner. Apparently there’s a perfectly good dishwasher that conveniently doesn’t get fixed, as dishes duty is a popular consequence for mild rule breaking.

I drop the towel onto the table and let both of my arms hang limp with a sigh. “I can’t feel my arms,” I moan, leaning with my back against the counter. “I’ll never be able to use them again.”

Percy lifts his hands from the dish water and flicks some suds at me with a small smile. “Quit whining. I’m pretty sure the skin on my hands is about to fall off from this long in the water.”

“You wanna switch up?”

He glances at the clock. “In half an hour, maybe.”

I pick up the towel again and wring it above the sink. “This is extreme. I am  _not_ doing this for two weeks.”

“If we keep our heads down until the end of this week, we’ll probably get out of a second one.”

“ _Ugh._ ”

“I got to tell Scipio about what we found out, though.” He pulls out the last dishes and drains the sink, taking the end of the new towel I’ve grabbed to dry his hands. “He said they had a suspicion the Empire was keeping an eye out, but the fact that they’re actually building the star-harnessing device is… worrisome, to say the least.”

“Which is exactly why we have to get to Robles!” I’ve been insisting on this for the past couple of days, but now I finally have a possibly convincing argument. “The Empire has the device and will possibly in the future get the star’s coordinates. We have neither!”

Percy bites his lip in thought. “But what if in doing this we’re just bringing them the coordinates?”

“We don’t have to take the box along,” I say. “Just talk to Mateu, get the code, get out, unlock the box here. Easy.”

Percy glances up at me. “You really don’t know much about the Mines, do you?”

“Well, no, but I’m sure you can tell me all about them as we plan for our little heist.”

He reaches out to the tap to refill the sink, but he stops. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll never get this mission approved.”

“Do we have to, though?”

“What?”

“You know…” I shrug. “Can’t we just go on our own?”

Percy sighs. “I’ve considered that, too. But it really is too dangerous. And with no back-up… No one even knowing where we  _are_ …”

“We’ll leave them a note,” I suggest. “In our room. So they won’t find it if we’re gone for just a few hours, but if we do get caught, they’ll search and come get us out.”

“You assume they _can_ get us out.”

“Well, then we just have to not get caught!” I insist. “Come on, Percy. You know this is our best shot. We’ve narrowly avoided dying, like, four times already. Who says our luck won’t hold out?”

“You know what they saying about tempting fate,” he says, though there’s little conviction behind it.

“Come _on_.” I drag out the final word as I lean in and let my forehead rest against his shoulder. “Please? Let’s at least try to work out a plan. Then we can still decide if it’s feasible. Give it a chance?”

I meet his eyes, and I’m caught a bit off guard at how close our faces suddenly are. I don’t give in, though, just give him my most winning look. He mellows. “Fine. We’ll look into it.”

“I knew I could count on you, darling.” I grin and quickly kiss his cheek, then move away before I can embarrass myself any further. I pick up the towel and return to drying the dishes. “But an important part of the plan is gonna be not getting found out by the rebels. I am _not_ doing dishes duty ever again.”


	13. Karaoke

Karaoke nights at the Crown and Cleaver are organized four times a year, on a Friday evening when almost no one is out. It’s in a reorganized and decorated cafeteria, with most tables shoved against the walls and a few pushed together in the center as a makeshift stage. Giant speakers have been pulled out, along with microphones, a computer, and what I’m told is the most extensive collection of popular and non-popular music in a fifty quadrant radius. The lights have been dimmed, replaced by colored and moving ones. Pillows are placed on the chairs, garlands strung up, and little vases with flowers placed on the tables beside bowls of snacks. Though without any doubt, the highlight of this whole thing is that there’s a bar set up serving a wide variety of alcoholic drinks, of which I’ve already downed several.

I’m feeling fantastic, even if you don’t count the warm buzz from drinking. The atmosphere is great and everyone seems happy. Regularly, people climb onto the stage and belt out songs, ranging from painfully off-key to strikingly on point. I’m sitting with Percy and Esmee near the stage, trading quips and gossip. There’s a  _blip!_ and Jeanne appears behind us, holding four plastic cups which she passes around before flopping down on her own chair.

Three kids with a purple complexion and three eyes finish their song and we all applaud. They bow and climb off, laughing and tripping over each other.

Percy leans in, speaking in my ear to be heard over the audience’s noise. “Sure you wouldn’t rather be working on the plans?”

“We work hard enough,” I say. “And it’s a party. We deserve this.”

He chuckles, still very close, and a funny feeling goes through me. Percy’s drinking as well tonight, not as much as I am but still plenty, and with our bond adding it up, it’s safe to say we won’t be doing much work tomorrow either as we wait out the hangover. But it’s fine. We’re both happy right now, and, like I said, we work hard enough.

For a little over a week we’ve been gathering all information we can find about the Mines—coordinates, floor plans, guard schedules—aided by Felicity and Sinjon. It’s coming together nicely. We’ve even pinned a date for it, and though Percy’s never outright confirmed it, I know we’re going through with it. I’m a little nervous, but also excited, as it could be one of the final steps to returning home.

Home.

Something about that makes me falter. I look around the room, not really searching anything in particular. Everywhere, little groups of rebels crowd together to laugh and talk and share a drink. They look so… normal.  _Normal_ perhaps not being the right word — compared to Empire standards, they’re very much extraordinary. A mismatched bunch of more alien races than I can name, tied together by their hatred for the Empire but right now they’re just… enjoying a fun evening. Throwing a party. Singing  _karaoke_ .

It gets harder and harder to think of any of them as enemies.

Beside me, Percy and Esmee burst out laughing. I find Jeanne looking smug, so I assume she’s told a joke. Esmee leans in, tears welling up in her eyes and Jeanne throws an arm around her. Percy’s calming down. He glances back at me, the remnant of a smile still on his face but eyebrows raised expectantly, as if he’s checking if I’m having fun, too. My heart flutters.

We watch the next handful of performances in comfortable silence. I try to bully Jeanne into getting us more drinks, as her teleporting ability makes her really the most logical option, but she refuses. With great reluctance and a small push from Percy I stand up and head over to the bar myself. As I wait in line, I watch the latest singer accept his applause and vacate the stage. It’s a young boy and he sang pretty well, so the cheers continue while he climbs off the tables. I find myself smiling, feeling rather fond of this bunch of rebels.

Even with all the lethal danger, I realize I’ve never felt as generally happy as I have these past few weeks.

I don’t want to think about how very wrong of me it is to think that, so I simply order another whiskey.

When I’ve made my way back to our table, the stage is still empty, crowd chatter beginning to pick up. I get an idea.

“Here, drink this,” I tell Percy as I shove one of the two cups I’ve brought into his hands while throwing back my own.

He looks up at me in question. “What for?”

“Just do it.”

He obeys, albeit slower than I did, putting it down besides mine on the table. I take his wrist and pull him on his feet, then start dragging him toward the stage.

The horror that dawns on his features is almost comical when he realizes what I’m planning. “ _No_ . Absolutely  _not_ .”

I’ve already climbed onto the stage and I’m now pulling him after me. “Come on, you nerd. Get on here.”

“ _No._ No way.”

“Don’t be shy, darling. You’ve got a great singing voice.”

“How would you even _know that_?”

Meanwhile, the other rebels have figured out what I’m trying to do, and they start cheering on us. I think they’re chanting Percy’s name, but it’s hard to tell over all the noise. Percy tries to pull himself free from my grip but I’ve taken his wrist in both my hands and I will not give up. Finally, he allows me to drag him onto the stage, glaring at me all the while, and the crowd cheers.

I move over to the screen to pick a song, scrolling through the most popular ones. I’m still holding Percy’s hand to make sure he doesn’t try to take off again, but he’s just awkwardly standing there. What song should I go with? There’s so many good ones.

When I come across one specific title, the choice is made very quickly, though.

“Oh, here’s a real pre-Nova classic!” I shout, taking two microphones from the stand and giving one to Percy. He looks down at it like I’m handing him a dead rat, but takes it either way. He risks a peek at the audience and instantly goes bright red.

The screen in front of us notifies us that the song is still loading.

“I’d like it to be stated I’m doing this completely against my will,” Percy says into the microphone, which prompts laughter from the audience. I nudge him in the side and give him a smile that I mean to be encouraging but that I think is just very, very wicked.

The music starts playing, lyrics appearing on screen.

I am not a particularly great singer. This has never stopped me before.

“ _Tonight, I’m gonna have myself a real good time, I feel alii-iiiiiiive_ ,” I start to sing. Percy hides his face in his hands. I pull them away, singing directly at him. “ _And the world, I’ll turn it inside out, I’m floating around in ecstasy, so don’t stop me now._ ”

Percy looks up at me, sheepishly and beyond embarrassed, but with fondness in his eyes. The next line, he sings along. Quietly, but it’s a start.

“ _Don’t stop me now. Don’t stop me, ‘cause I’m having a good time, having a good time_ _–_ ”

The rest of the song is a blur. I instantly give it my all, but Percy loosens up as the song goes along. By the end, we’re both yelling with huge grins on our faces. Percy misses a few lines simply by doubling over laughing. It’s amazing. The crowd completely loses it. At “ _I’m gonna make a supersonic woman of you_ ”, we both point at Jeanne and Esmee, who have stood up to cheer on us.

At the end of the song, I slump against Percy, giving him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. He throws both arms around me and hugs me tightly. We get a standing ovation from almost everyone, and the applause, cheers and whistles seem to last forever. My heart is pounding and I’m completely out of breath, but I can’t remember ever feeling this amazing. Percy and I make eye contact. Something passes between us, something I can’t name, but it seems to surprise us both. Percy offers me a small smile, then presses a lingering kiss to my forehead.

We stumble off the stage, clinging to each other, still surrounded by applause. Once we’re on the normal floor again, Esmee practically throws herself at us, hugging us both. “That was amazing!” she says breathlessly.

“Uh. _Duh_ ,” I say, which gets them both laughing.

Arriving back at our chairs, I’m handed a newly-filled cup by Jeanne. “It’s on me,” she tells me, even though it’s all free. “These karaoke nights have been a tradition for almost seven years and no one’s ever managed to get him on stage.”

She tips her chin at Percy, who’s sitting down beside me. “I only did it for Monty,” he says.

“Lies.” I drape my arm across his shoulder and lean into him. “You loved it.”

“Oh, hush.” He starts taking off his jacket, throwing it over the back of his chair. “God, it’s hot in here.”

“It’s not.”

An Aevelean passes by in front of us, tall and her scales various shades of pinks and oranges. She’s a bit older than us—I think. It’s hard to tell with most non-humans. At least, for me. She’s quite pretty, I think, as she make her way through the various scattered groups of tables and chairs. She catches me staring and gives me a small smile.

“Don’t bother, Monty,” Jeanne calls from across our little ensemble. “She’s got someone and so do you.”

“I was only looking!” I protest, to which Jeanne makes a tsking sound. Esmee elbows her.

I lean into Percy so he can hear me. “You know, I hooked up with an Aevelean once.”

“I recall,” Percy says dryly, taking a long sip for dramatic effect. “I was in the middle of a rebel meeting.”

“Never let it be said I’ve done nothing to deter the Crown and Cleaver.”

“I’m still mad at you for that, you know.”

“Percy, she was _stunning_. What’s a humble bisexual such as myself gotta do?”

“Oh!” Jeanne perks up. “You’re bisexual?”

“I am.”

“So am I! Well, where I’m from there’s different words for it all,” she says, as she moves her chair closer to me to be heard over the noise. “But it’s the closest translation.”

I lean back, using Percy as support while he talks to Esmee. “Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Ynsei,” she says, a bit of an accent to it, like she’s pronouncing it in its original language. “It’s pretty remote, in the Glacies System.” Some bitterness finds its way into her tone. “The Empire renamed it Glacies-4c or something when they took over.”

I frown. “Took over? Did it join the Empire?”

Jeanne laughs. It’s an ugly sound, without humor. “I mean they  _took_ it. We barely even had an army. Never stood a chance.” She sighs, gaze going distant. “I was nine.”

She’s rubbing her wrists mindlessly, like a nervous tic. She’s wearing fewer bracelets than she normally does, and I notice some lines on her wrists I haven’t before. They’re not like her marks. They seem more like… scars. It sends a chill down my spine.

The next moment, she folds her arms together and cheers up. “But hey, thankfully the Crown and Cleaver exists, right?”

“…Right,” I say.

She stands up, smiling again, like our conversation never happened. “Esmee. Let’s go. I wanna do a song.”

She takes Esmee’s hands and pulls her to her feet. Esmee tries to look reluctant but she fails.

“Amaze us, darling!” I call after Jeanne.

While the two girls are trying to agree on a song, I notice a funny emotion coming across the bond. When I turn, I find Percy giving me an equally odd look.

“What?” I ask.

“What?” he echoes.

I put down my cup on the now empty chair next to me. “That thing you’re feeling. What is it?”

“Wh _–_ I’m not feeling anything. Nothing out of the ordinary, anyway.”

I lean one elbow on my knee, resting my chin on my fist. “Oh, yes you are. What is it? Start talking.”

“It’s nothing!” he says. Then he quietly adds, eyes down and trying to make a joke out of it, “I don’t have to worry about… competition, do I?”

That surprises me so much I don’t know what to say right away. “ _What_ ?”

“I told you, it’s nothing.”

“No. Explain.”

He shrugs. “I just heard you calling her ‘darling’.”

“I call everyone ‘darling’.” Then it dawns on me, my mouth falling open in delight. “Are you _jealous_?”

“I’m not!” Though the blush creeping up contradicts.

I grin broadly, moving in close as he tries to avoid my eyes. “Oh my god. You’re jealous. This is amazing.”

“I’m _not_. Jeanne has a girlfriend.”

“Irrational jealousy. Even better.” I rest my chin on his shoulder, smirking. “Just ‘cause I called her ‘darling’? Wait. Did you think that was my pet name for _you_ , specifically?”

Percy shoves me away. He’s really blushing like mad now, poor thing. “How was I supposed to know?”

“Perce, that’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re _jealous_. I’m flattered.”

“Shut _up_.”

He’s tugging at his collar, undoing a few buttons. “It really is too damn hot in here.”

“That’s just what embarrassment feels like, darling.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I’m starting to reconsider.”

We watch the girls do the final chorus of their song and applaud after. The night goes along lovely, and I’m perfectly content, simply being in these people’s company. When I lean closer to Percy to comment on the latest singer’s performance, he takes a while to respond, and when he does, it’s like I’ve pulled him out of a deep thought. He blinks. “Did you say something?”

“I was saying I’m pretty sure my hearing’s been massacred after that song. You all right?”

“Yeah. Just… It’s nothing.”

“You sure?”

“I’m going to go get some air.” He stands up and stumbles, legs getting tangled with the chair. I jump to my feet to catch him. He gives me a sheepish smile. “I think I drank a bit much.”

“Lightweight.”

I stay by his side as we leave the hall. He’s a bit unsteady on his feet, half leaning on me as I’ve got an arm around his shoulders. The door falls closed behind us and the music is instantly muted. Percy leans against a wall and takes some deep breaths. “That’s better.”

“Go to bed,” I tell him with a small smile.

“Fine.”

I offer him a hand again. He looks surprised. “I’m okay.”

“I know. I’d like to walk you back anyway.”

He rolls his eyes at me. “What, do you care about me or something?”

“If you fall off of something and break all your bones, I have to deal with it.”

He accepts my hand, thankfully, because the first step he takes he’s already falling over. I try to catch him but that causes us both to sort of fall against the wall. Percy’s clutching my shoulders. Our faces swoop close.

Neither of us move. We’re in an awkward position, half supported by the wall and each other, our mouths so close I can feel his breath against my lips. We’re both wide-eyed and flustered, and I’m suddenly very aware of my body in a way I wasn’t before. One of his curls brushes against my forehead.

“Hey,” I say breathlessly.

“Hey,” he replies.

I’m so close that I can count every freckle splattered across his face, every shift in color in his eyes. I think I can feel his heartbeat. A strange emotion spreads across our bond, like ink in water, ebbing out until it’s all I can think about.

“We should _–_ ” he starts.

I cut him off by kissing him.

He’s taken aback for a moment, then he reciprocates fully. I put one hand in his hair, the other strangling his shirt, and he loops his arms around my waist and pulls me closer. The kiss deepens and I nearly lose my mind. I’ve never kissed anyone like this before. I’ve kissed people in a similar fashion, sure, but it’s so wildly different — the way I’m not only ambushed by how much I’m realizing I love him, how much I’ve always loved him, but also because I can  _feel how much he loves me too_ , and it overwhelms me. Neither of us is sober, or even sober-adjacent, but I don’t care. I don’t want to think about any of it, about rebels or the Empire or the war. The only thing that matters right now is him. I’m kissing the most important person to me in the galaxy, my soulmate, and it’s exactly the way it should be. The way it was always meant to be.

It’s simple. It’s perfect. It’s everything.

Something wells up inside him, sprouting up like weeds tarnishing his affection for me. It’s something old, almost as old as our bond, and it goes so deep inside him, to the very core of who he is. It’s something ugly and bitter and  _raw_ , in spite of its age, the scars of grief that never quite healed, tearing themselves open again every now and then. I feel it coming but I try to ignore it, just for another moment, a few more seconds _–_

He pushes me away.

We stumble back, coming to a stop a few feet away from each other, gasping and gaping. My vision swims for a second before focusing again on his face, hurt written all over it, some color lingering on his cheeks and for a second he looks like he might cry. His voice is hoarse, and I’ve never seen him like this, like he might fall apart where he stands. “Are you… Can you live with this?”

I’ve no idea what to say to that. He’s obviously in pain but I can’t for the life of me figure out why, nor how I can make him feel better. I have to respond with something, though, so I try to lighten things up a little. “You’re not that bad of a kisser, darling.”

He looks at me like he can’t believe what I’m saying. “Are you  _serious_ ?”

“Am I? Are _you_? What are you even freaking out about all of a sudden? You were enjoying that as much as I was.”

“I wasn’t _–_ ” He bites his lip, pained. “I can’t. It’s wrong. I can’t _–_ ” He turns away from me, touching his fingers to his forehead, then back to me. “You’re the _Crown Prince of the Empire._ ”

“Yeah? And you’re a rebel. We’ve established this.” I force a small smile, hoping to calm him down as I say jokingly, “I’m having a bit of a déjà-vu here.”

“We _can’t be_ together, Henry.” He winces a bit, calling me that. “We’re on opposite sides.”

“So what? I think it’s kind of hot, to be honest. A forbidden romance. Star-crossed lovers. Real _Romeo and Juliet_ -type thing we’ve got going here.”

I don’t know why I’m saying all that. I feel like I’m distancing myself from the situation, unwillingly shielding myself from all the pain I feel in him, in the only way I’ve ever known.

Percy looks genuinely hurt for another moment. “Monty, please be serious,” he pleads. “I can’t allow myself to love you as long as you’re part of _–_ as long as _–_ ”

“As long as I don’t _switch sides_?” He won’t say it, so I figured I might as well. It comes out colder than I intended. “What the fuck, Percy? I’m not asking you to join the Empire, am I? So how is this any different?”

He bites his lip, sounding desperate. “They’re  _monsters_ , Monty.”

“Do you think I’m a monster?”

He flinches. His voice is thin. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you’re thinking it. All of them—all of _us_ _—_ are the same in your eyes, isn’t it?” When he doesn’t respond. “Just _say it_ , Percy. Say it. Do you think I’m a monster for being a part of the Empire?”

“If you condone their actions, maybe you are.”

I take it like a slap to the face. Percy seems surprised he’s said it, surprise turning to defiance.

I don’t even know why I’m taking this so hard. I shouldn’t be surprised. As much as I like to forget it, he’s still a rebel. I thought we might be able to put out differences aside for long enough to find a decent solution to our situation, maybe enjoy ourselves along the way, but that’s asking too much, apparently. He’s looking at me pained but defiant and I meet him with anger. “Funny thing. No one ever said you had to  _get along_ with me.” Even though that was kind of part of our deal, in a way. “No one ever said you had to  _like me_ . That’s  _your_ mistake. If you hate me so much why are you even helping me, then? Do you want to get rid of me so badly?”

He’s hurting, a throbbing pain crossing the bond, but his face goes emotionless. “It’s what’s best for everyone.”

Which hurts. I don’t show it, though. “Fine, then. In a couple days you’ll have your stupid coordinates and then you can finally get me back home. We know the plan. We don’t have to see each other until then.”

“Go ask downstairs and I’m sure they’re happy to help you find another room,” he says. He doesn’t even sound angry anymore. He’s so upset he’s sick with it.

“I think I might,” I snarl back.

“Goodnight, Henry,” Percy says with one final measured look. Then he walks away.

I’m left staring after him, still seething with rage. I don’t know how we got here, from a handful of perfectly enjoyable days and a wonderful evening and the most amazing kiss I’ve ever had, to our worst argument so far. This was a bad idea, all of it. I was an imbecile for thinking a decades old war was something we could overcome, or at least, that we could stay out of its reach. But he’s right. It’s better this way. There never was a future possible. The only reason we’re hurting right now is  _because_ we allowed ourselves to get close.

The worst part is that Percy and I can only walk away from each other in the literal way. Deeper down, our souls are Linked, and I can still feel the way his heart aches because while he’s upset for a number of reasons, one of them is us being at odds, and I hate it. I hate him for it. And for the first time ever, I hate this bond I share with him.

I want another drink. My hand’s practically on the doorknob when I realize I’ll have to face a bunch of rebels before I can get one, and I am not calm enough to not snap at the first person I see, so I simply walk away, in the opposite direction that Percy went. I’m not sure where I’m going. Maybe find a way to get out of here. I consider calling Felicity and telling her I need that rescue mission after all, because I cannot stand the thought of staying here a moment longer.

Yeah. That’s the best idea. Cut this stupid plan short before we can make it any worse. I turn around and head for the computer rooms.

That’s when the world starts spinning.


	14. Leverage

_Percy?_

_Percy, are you there? Can you hear me?_

_I’m sorry about what I said, I swear, I didn’t mean it-_

_Are you all right? Are you awake?_

I don’t get a reply, so I take that as a ‘no’.

_Please be all right, darling._

I’m clinging to a wall to hold myself up, the last effects of Percy’s seizure fading from my system. I take a few deep breaths, wiping my clammy hands on my sleeve s . I try to put my weight on my own two feet again, but right then, a wave of nausea rolls through him and I grab the wall again as he vomits. I can practically taste the acid. For a moment, I gag as well, and I need a minute of breathing and convincing my body that  _I’m_ not the one who’s nauseous right now.

I swallow a few times to push the feeling down. “Fuck,” I breathe.

I don’t experience Percy’s seizures like he does. I don’t pass out, I don’t get the convulsions, I don’t really feel any pain. Some side effects make their way across the bond though, and while it’s always worse for Percy, I do get a bit of the soreness and just the general shitty feeling afterward. Percy doesn’t remember them actually happening, and as soon as it’s passed, the memory starts to slip away for me as well.

At one point, Percy must’ve hit himself on something, though, because I felt a sharp pain shoot through my wrist and I doubled over, hissing “Son of a  _bitch_ ” through gritted teeth. It’s still throbbing right now as I cradle it to my chest and I’m seriously worried he might’ve broken something.

I need to find him.

I don’t know why. I just know that I do.

I don’t have any idea where I’m going. I keep calling out for him through our bond but he doesn’t respond, and I’m starting to panic. He could be anywhere and I need to find him  _right now._ I reach the end of a hallway and find myself in front of a crossroads. I feel so frantic I can barely even remember where anything is.

Where do I go?

_Well. We are Linked._

My mind goes back to a bit over a week ago, lying on the ship’s deck and staring at the stars, everything in my head a mess. He found me, then. He used the Link between us to find me in this giant base, because he knew I was upset.

Okay. Okay. I take a deep breath. I found the escape pod in Versailles. It’s essentially the same, right?  _You weren’t even looking_ , my brain tells me.  _You don’t know how it works_ . Well, fuck that. I’m finding Percy. He needs me, and I’m going to be there for him.

I close my eyes. Left or right. Simple.  _Percy, where are you?_ I focus on my breathing, on my heartbeat, on my soul, all of it so intrinsically Linked to him. On every time he’s been there for me and every time I felt his joy and every time I've seen him smile. My best friend. My soulmate. Half my heart.

I feel a faint pull, something tugging me toward the left. It feels like a string’s been tied to my soul itself, connecting me, gently guiding me where I need to go. I open my eyes, and follow it.

The longer I go, the easier it gets; after a while I don’t even need to stop anymore at crossroads. I pick up the pace, starting to run, ignoring the ache lingering in my muscles. I know Percy isn’t conscious right now, but I keep talking to him.  _I’m on my way, darling, don’t_ _you_ _worry, I’ll be right there and everything’s going to be all right and you’re going to be okay, I promise you’ll be okay, I’ll find you and you’ll be okay._ I think I’m mostly reassuring myself. In the past few years Percy’s had multiple seizures and I couldn’t help with any of them, and he was fine regardless. I’m not sure if it’s our fight preceding it or me actually being able to do something, but right now, it feels different.

When I run up the stairs and arrive at the corridor, I realize he must be in our room.

The door is still open. I find him on the floor, in the space between our beds, eyes closed and unmoving. I drop to my knees beside him, taking his face in my hands. “Percy. Percy, can you hear me?  _Percy_ .”

I pull his head into my lap, away from where he threw up on the floor, and brush away some hair stuck to his skin. He looks so sickly and he isn’t responding, and I  _know_ this isn’t lethal and I  _know_ he’ll be fine, he’s always been fine, but the sight of him like this is nearly enough to make me cry.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, my voice choked by tears. “I’m sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean _–_ I didn’t _–_ I love you, darling, I always have, and I…”

As I’m cradling his head in my arms, a thought jumps me, like an animal from the shadows.  _What if he died?_ The panic that flares up is a living thing inside me, and my insides twist up. I feel sick.

“Percy,” I say softly, shaking him at the shoulders. “Percy. Please wake up, darling. Please, I…” There are tears pressing behind my eyes, but I refuse to cry. “Please, I don’t know what to do. I’m terrible at this. I don’t know how to _–_ I’ve never _–_ I can’t…” A sob escapes me. “ _Please_.”

I’m wiping my nose, determinedly pushing back the tears — I’m already falling apart too much, I’m supposed to be there for  _him_ _—_ when he stirs. At first, I think I’ve imagined it, but then his brow creases and his eyelids flutter.

“Percy?” I say breathlessly.

He makes a sound, stirring in my arms, and then his eyes finally open. They land on me for about a second, before moving past me, moving left and right and looking at nothing in particular.

“M… Monty?” His voice is hoarse and it sounds like the words cost him great effort.

“I’m right here, darling,” I say, smiling broadly with tears in my eyes. “You’re going to be fine. I promise. I’m right here.”

He tries to pull up his arms, accidentally knocking against his injured wrist, and we both flinch. He whimpers.

“You hurt yourself,” I say. “I… I should go get someone. I…” I have no idea what I’m doing. “Let me help you on the bed.”

It takes a while as I am not very strong and Percy isn’t much help. Eventually I manage to get him sitting on the edge, him clinging to me. I push the blankets aside with one hand and ease him down onto the mattress, then gently convince him to let go of me, prying his hands from my shoulders. When he finally lies down, I put the blanket over him as his breaths slow from their panicked rhythm.

“Should I, um… Should I go get someone? I…” I don’t want to leave him on his own. What usually happens when he has a seizure? I’m so terrible at this it nearly brings the tears back. I’m so afraid to do the wrong thing. “I’ll… You’ll be alright here, won’t you? I promise I won’t be long. I’ll just…” I try to stand up, but he grabs my wrist.

“Monty,” he says, wide-eyed and panting. “Please. Don’t go.”

“I need to get help, darling,” I say, barely managing sound past the lump in my throat. “It’ll only take a minute. You’ll be fine. I’ll be right back and then I’ll stay with you for however long you’d like me to and I’ll…”

Finally, his eyes land back on me. “You’re not… You’re not like them,” he says. “You can’t be. You can’t _–_ ”

He’s practically strangling my hand. I lean in, caressing his face. “Easy,” I whisper. “You can relax. You’re… You’re safe.” God, I sound so daft. “I’m looking after you.” I press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Just rest.”

His breathing slows further down to a normal rhythm. His eyes slide shut, head canting to the side.

I stay like that for a while, watching as his breathing makes a strand of hair flutter with every exhale. He’s sweaty and pale but he looks peaceful, in spite of the slight crease in his brow. I slowly sit up, unwrapping his hand from around my wrist. “I’ll be right back,” I say, all sound choked away.

I stand up, exit the room and quietly close the door behind me. Then I  _run_ to the hospital ward.

  
  


There’s one nurse there that I ambush on her way out. I tell her the whole story, panting and freaking out and probably not making a lot of sense. The words ‘Percy’ and ‘seizure’ and ‘wrist’ and ‘soulmate’ are in there somewhere, so I think she gets the gist. She tries to take me inside to give me some calming medicine but I refuse, since it’s obviously Percy who needs urgent help. She gives in, returns inside to gather some things, then follows me back to Percy at a brisk pace.

Percy is—thankfully—right where I left him, in bed. The nurse sits down beside him, gently shakes him awake and asks him some questions while I lurk in the doorway and feel useless. Percy does his best at replying, but he keeps dozing off, and in the end the nurse lets him. She takes his wrist and puts ice on it, instructing me to remove it in twenty minutes. She helps me clean up the vomit. Then she pulls some bottles out of her bag and tells me to go get two glasses of water. When I return, she takes out two different pills. One she puts down on Percy’s nightstand, and the other she drops in a glass. It dissolves with a soft sizzling noise.

“Make sure Percy takes this when he wakes up,” she says, as she puts the glass with clear water down next to the pill. “He’ll know what it is. This,” she pushes the other glass in my hand, “is for you.”

“But I’m not hurt,” I say. It comes out rather meekly. I stare at the tiny bubbles in the water, rising up.

“You’re his soulmate, aren’t you?”

I nod.

She puts a hand on my shoulder and gives me a small smile. “Look after yourself. If not for yourself—do it for him.” She nods at Percy. “Your well-being is his well-being, you know.”

I nod again. She doesn’t say anything else, so I assume she’s waiting for me to drink the water. I throw it back in a few swallows. I’m dizzier than I should be.

She gives me a comforting pat on the back. “Get some rest,” she says, before leaving and closing the door behind her. I’m left alone and in the dark.

For a while I wait, sitting on my bed and scrolling through some messages on my communicator, half watching Percy all the while. Twenty minutes pass and I remove the ice from his wrist, tucking his arm under the blanket and hoping I don’t wake him.

Lacking something better to do, I strip down to my shirt and underwear and climb into bed. I’ve resolved to keep watch over Percy for as long as I can, but I find my eyes falling closed after just a few minutes. It’s a pointless fight, so I let myself drift away.

  
  


I wake up to my worst headache so far. Muffled ambiance reaches me through the door. I press a button on my communicator to check the time, briefly blinding myself by pointing the projecting light directly into my eyes, and find out it’s around noon. I put my arm down, still blinking against the spots in my vision, and look across the room.

Percy is asleep, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The glass on his nightstand is still full, so he hasn’t been awake yet. I smile wearily. God, I feel like shit. I rub my eyes, sitting up. I could go for a few more hours of sleep, really, but anxiety stirs uneasily in my gut. I’m both impatient for Percy to wake up and dreading it.

Shit. What will we even say to each other after our fight?

I don’t even bother entertaining my swift exit from the rebel base anymore. I can’t leave Percy.

I end up getting breakfast—or rather, lunch—on my own, though I don’t eat much. I take a plate back to our room for Percy. When I get there, he’s sitting up in bed. We both stop to stare at each other.

“…Hey,” he says.

“Hey.” I hesitate. “I… I brought you breakfast.”

“Oh. Um. Thank you.”

I hand him the plate, which he places on his lap. Now I’m not holding anything anymore, I have no idea what to do with my hands, so I end up awkwardly rubbing my elbow.

“I… I didn’t get you anything to drink.” I sigh. “Let me go back _–_ ”

“No, it’s fine.” He puts the plate on the bedside table. “I’m not really hungry, anyway.”

“Oh. Okay.”

An exquisitely awkward silent falls over us.

“Well,” I say, when I can’t take it anymore. “I better go.”

“Monty, wait.”

And I’m not sure why that does something to me. Why my name from his lips in that voice, a little drowsy but spoken with precise softness, almost brings back the tears I managed to push back last night. I stop, trying to swallow away the lump in my throat.

“I’m sorry.”

I don’t move.

“I’m… really sorry about what I said last night. I shouldn’t have. I know I can’t take it back, but _–_ ”

“I’m sorry, too.”

He falters. I turn around and find him looking up at me. He looks so tired.

“You’re not like them, Monty,” he says. “I was stupid for thinking that. I know you, and you aren’t…” He trails off.

I have no idea what to say.

He takes a sharp breath. “Can I… Once I’m feeling better, can I show you something?”

I still can’t manage any words. I just nod.

  
  


After that, we don’t discuss our fight anymore. We quietly coexist, in the same easy manner we have for the past few days, but with less words. A handful of people visit Percy, including Scipio, Jeanne and Esmee, and Percy pretends to be annoyed at it. The nurse drops by again to check on his wrist and confirms it’s just bruised, telling him to be careful with it for a while. During dinner he says he’s feeling well enough to join me in the cafeteria.

The next day, when I’m returning to our room, I hear the violin music as soon as I step out of the elevator. I smile, following the melody back to our room. The door is ajar. Percy has his back to me, full attention on the music. He doesn’t hear me coming in.

I wait for him to finish the song, then break into an applause. He starts rather spectacularly.

“That was beautiful, darling.”

“Don’t scare me like that! How long have you been standing there?”

“A while. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

He gives me a soft smile. “Did you like it?”

“Was my enthusiastic applause not enough indication of that?”

He snorts. “Well, you can’t claim I’ve never played for you anymore.”

“Technically that wasn’t for me.” I sit down on my bed, propping my pillow up against the wall and crossing my arms. “So. Your audience awaits.”

He rolls his eyes, fond shimmer in them, but raises bow and violin again.

I’m not really sure how much time goes by. Percy gets lost in the music and I get lost in watching him play. It sounds amazing, as far as I can tell in my amateur opinion, but listening to him play can’t compare to…  _watching_ him. He keeps his eyes closed all the way through, his expression occasionally shifting to follow the song’s tone, his whole upper body swaying with the music. I don’t think I breathe until he puts the instrument down.

He opens his eyes, watching me with a shy smile, which pulls me out of my trance. I sit up, clapping enthusiastically once again. “Stunning. Gorgeous. Brilliant. Incredible. Unparalleled.” Percy ducks his chin, and I add, just because I can, “You decide whether I’m describing the music or the musician.”

He goes bright red. He leans forward to jab at me with his bow. “Shut up.”

“You’re welcome, darling.”

We fall quiet for a bit. Percy picks up his violin case and starts putting the instrument away, and I’m entranced by the movements of his hands—gentle, precise, respectful. After closing the latches, his hands fall still.

“Monty,” he says. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

  
  


The person I’m meeting is, apparently, in the hospital ward. I’m getting a bad feeling about this. I don’t ask any questions, though, just follow Percy along a few empty beds and trail behind as he strikes a conversation with the nurse. Eventually we find our way to the beds all the way in the back, separated from the others with curtains. Percy pushes them aside.

In the bed sits a man, reading a book. He’s in his late twenties, broad-shouldered and with a short beard. He’s got the sheets pulled over his legs-

I stop dead in my tracks.

In the space where one of his legs should be, there’s nothing beneath his knee.

The man looks up. “Oh, Percy, hi! How are you doing? I heard…”

“I’m fine,” Percy says, smiling. “What about you? How are you holding up?”

He sighs deeply. “I’m bored out of my  _mind_ . See this book?” He holds it up, closing it with one hand. “I’m reading it for the  _third time_ . I don’t even like it!”

Percy laughs. “We’re missing you on missions.”

“I bet. Though it’s unlikely I’ll be getting out of here any time soon.”

“Still no update on a prosthetic?”

“Nope. They thought they’d be able to get something a few days back, but that mission got intercepted by the Empire.” He sighs again. This time, it turns into a cough, and a rather serious one at that. Percy moves forward, as if he might help, but stops, expression pulled.

“They still don’t know what it is?” he asks. “The cough.”

The man shakes his head. “Probably just a cold.”

“It’s been three weeks.”

He doesn’t reply to that. Instead, he changes the subject. “What about you, huh? Do anything reckless lately to avenge my loss of limb?”

“Reckless? Me?” Percy looks back at me, mischievous glint in his eye. “I’d never.”

Only now, the other seems to notice me. “Oh, hello.”

“Hi,” I say, my voice sounding far away.

Percy gestures between us. “Ebrahim, this is Monty. Monty, Ebrahim.”

“Monty,” Ebrahim says with a grin, eyes going from Percy to me and back. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Percy looks annoyed, but he can’t hold back a smile.

“Why can’t they… Why can’t they help you?” I ask.

“They _are_ helping me,” Ebrahim says.

“But they… You’ve been in here for three weeks?” I think back to life in the Empire. Hospitals I’d visited on royal duty. Only in extremely rare cases people stay for extended periods of time—medicine has advanced so far almost anything is curable, or at the very least efficiently treatable. There is no shortage of medication, or prosthetics, or any type of healthcare. So why…?

I can’t get it articulated, but Percy seems to get it. “We’re a little short on medical supplies at the moment,” he says. “Or rather… always.”

“Yeah.” Ebrahim chuckles. “The Empire’s quite good at making sure we don’t get our hands on any of that.”

“What happened to you?” I ask, even though I don’t want to know. Even though I know damn well in what direction this is going. Everything suddenly feels distant.

Ebrahim scoffs. “The  _Empire_ happened. What else?”

Percy’s watching my reaction intently. “Can I tell him?” he asks Ebrahim, who shrugs.

“A month ago,” Percy starts, suddenly deliberately avoiding eye contact. “Ebrahim and I went on a restocking mission. Standard stuff, really. Except our supplier double-crossed us. The Empire was waiting for us when we got there.”

“Please don’t tell me you still feel guilty about that,” Ebrahim says. “If you hadn’t run, they just would’ve gotten you too.”

“I didn’t run _–_ ” Percy argues. “I would never _–_ ”

“No, you didn’t, I let myself get caught on purpose to give you a chance to get away. And I’m glad you took it.”

Percy bites his lip. “I’d rather have stayed.”

“Then it’d be the two of us sitting here. Would that be any better? _If_ we’d have gotten out at all. I’m still convinced that prison heist only worked because you were able to report back with information.”

Percy’s got his arms crossed, hugging himself. “It took us a week.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t a very fun week.”

“Did they…” My voice sounds strangled. The hospital ward suddenly seems too big and too small at the same time. “Did they want information?”

“Information?” He laughs, humorlessly. “They know everything about us they need to know. Nah, they were just bored.”

“I… I don’t understand.”

“The Crown and Cleaver… isn’t actually a threat to the Empire,” Percy says. “We have a stronghold and the public’s favor, but aside from that…”

“We’re a nuisance at best,” Ebrahim adds on. “They can’t completely eradicate us at once, not without risking public uprisings, but they can cut off our supplies. Food. Medicine. Pick us off one by one, damage our morale, one strike at a time, until there’s nothing left of us.” He shrugs. “I hate to break it to you, since you’re still new. And I do really believe in what we’re doing here. In spite of…” He makes a vague gesture, half toward his leg. “In spite of everything, in spite of how much the odds are against us, it’s the only fight worth fighting. I’d rather die for the rebellion than live knowing we didn’t do all we could.”

  
  


As soon as we step out of the hospital ward, I let myself lean back against the wall, slinking down until I’m sitting, knees pulled up. Percy stops beside me, emotions unnameable.

“Are you all right?” he asks.

“He got taken a month ago,” I say, half to myself. “You got him back three weeks ago. That’s just a few days before you kidnapped me.” I look up at him for confirmation, finding it in how he looks away.

“It was the straw.”

“It… It doesn’t make _sense_.” I’m having trouble articulating the words. My brain is filled with static, refusing to put the puzzle pieces together. “The _–_ They _–_ It wouldn’t _–_ ”

“My father worked for the Empire.”

I barely even hear him over the storm in my head at first. “The Empire _–_ They _–_ He _–_ I don’t _–_ ” I blink, stuttered stream of words coming to a halt. I look up. “…What?”

“He worked for the Empire.” Percy’s speaking clearly. His arms are crossed in a protective manner and he avoids eye contact. “When it came to power, his family joined. When he was old enough, he started working for them. He was a pilot.”

I can only stare at him.

“He did… simple transport missions. Carrying cargo between planets. From the Empire’s capital to newly joined planets and back. Never thought about it twice. Never questioned anything. Just did his job. Until…” He bites his lip. “Until he met my mother.”

A low, throbbing pain starts to cross our bond. It’s faint but present. A pain he carries with him, with the beating of his heart.

“It was by complete accident. He was about to take off to head back to the Capital, but his ship wouldn’t start. It was getting late. He searched the surrounding village for help. And that’s where he first saw her.” A ghost of a smile appears on his lips. “She offered him a place to stay. He was an imperial officer, a part of the Empire that had just seized her planet, but all she saw was… a clueless young man, soaked from the rain and exhausted. My father…” He clears his throat. “Well, I only know these stories because Scipio told me them, but my father always used to say he never understood why she let him in. In retrospect, he was endlessly grateful, but he never understood.”

I say nothing.

“They talked at great length. Initially, he was skeptical when she told him about what the Empire had done to them, but didn’t say anything out of politeness. When he left the next morning, he couldn’t stop thinking about it, though. He tried to resume his work, but he started to see the cracks. Once he started looking… there was no escaping them.

“The next time he was sent to that planet, he visited my mother again. And the time after that. Soon, he was doing everything he could to see her. They fell in love. Their relationship was kept well-hidden, from both of their people. They were scared of being discovered, but they thought they had no way out. Until…” He casts down his eyes.

“Until they had you,” I say.

He nods. “They decided it couldn’t go on like this. At great risk, my father contacted the Crown and Cleaver. He explained his situation and asked for their protection. It took him a while to convince them, but eventually, they arranged my parents could come here. By then, I was barely a year old. One night, my father went to find my mother and I, intending to desert the Empire and take us straight to the Crown and Cleaver. But someone… someone sold him out.”

I hold my breath.

“They were waiting for him back at his ship. My father tried to reason with them, but it was pointless. They… They opened fire…” The low-lying pain rises up, going from the faint memory of a scar to the pain of salt in an open wound. “My father managed to get all three of us out of there, but my mother had been hit. She died in this hospital ward.” He nods at the room behind us.

My ears are ringing, my brain refusing to process the information. I can only gape at him as he blinks away tears.

“My father never forgave himself,” he continues, voice trembling. “He threw himself into rebel missions. Trying to get back at the Empire any way he could. He helped the rebellion to many small victories, but he was reckless. I’d been here barely a year when he…” He swallows, struggling with the words. I already know what he’s going to say and I desperately want him not to. I half lose my mind silently begging him not to say it. But he presses onward, fighting through the tears. “When he gave his life. I was too young to remember either of them.” He inhales, breath trembling. “So please don’t hate me when I can’t accept that my soulmate is a part of the Empire. That the person I love…” His eyes flit aside to meet mine, then he looks away just as quickly. “I’m sorry I broke off our kiss. I’m sorry about what I said after. But I just couldn’t live with myself.”

He has his eyes downcast, shoulders pulled up, keeping his face void of the grief overwhelming him — overwhelming us both, mixing with my confusion and my despair to cling to what I’ve always known to be true. It’s tearing me apart, and for the life of me I cannot remember where I belong. I’ve never felt at home in the Empire, but it was all I’ve ever known, so I made the best of it. With these rebels, I had started to hope I could fit in, be a part of something, have some  _friends_ … But now it all feels so far away. Everything I’ve ever been — none of it feels real right now. The world refuses to make sense in my head, and I can’t _–_ I’m desperately trying to figure it out, to reconcile these two colliding universes in my head.

And I can’t. There’s no way.

I start when Percy kneels down beside me and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Are you… okay?” He gives me a pained smile. “I didn’t want to dump it all on you like that, but you have to understand _–_ ”

“You’re lying.”

He stops. That hint of a smile is still on his face, frozen as his brow creases. His hand falters on my arm. “What did you say?”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have put it like that.” I’ve sat up. My voice is way too loud. “I’m really sorry about your parents, Percy, sorry that you had to go through that. But there’s obviously been a misunderstanding. I get it now.”

Percy’s eyes widen. His hand hovers a few inches above my shoulder.

“The Empire has been corrupted! God, what would you expect, it’s huge. There’s always going to be some rogue agents who have different ideas on how things should be done! I see now it’s worse than I would’ve imagined. Imperial officers going off on their own, hurting innocent people—we can’t stand for that, obviously! That’s very wrong. I really must have a chat about this with Father when I get back.” I’ve stood up, gesturing like mad. “And then maybe we can try a reconciliation attempt with the Crown and Cleaver! It’s one of those… both sides have a point-type thing. If we can talk about it, we’ll see that we’re not as different as we think we are, and we could end this stupid war! I’m so glad you told me this, Percy. Actually, I’m glad you kidnapped me! If you hadn’t, I never would’ve seen things from the rebels’ side. This has been a unique opportunity to find a good compromise and get this pointless conflict out of the way! And hey! If the war is over, we could be together! So everyone wins, right?”

Percy’s gaping at me, mouth open and eyes wide in horror. He’s dumbfounded, all the emotions clearing from his mind to make space for… What is it, even? Bewilderment? Is he surprised by my simple solution to this entire problem? Is he about to break into a smile, congratulate me on my idea and hug me? Kiss me, maybe? I am risking something for him, though. I know this conversation with Father won’t be an easy one. But I’ll do it—for Percy. I love him and if this war could end, well… I give him a tentative smile, waiting for him to make sense of it and be happy.

It does not happen that way.

“Monty…” he starts, looking for the words. His voice is quiet. “Are you… You can’t be serious.”

My smile remains fixed in place, though dread sneaks up on me. “Sure I am, darling. I know it’s at great personal risk, but I’ll do it for you.”

“Monty,” he says again. Then he’s at a loss for words. “You do realize… You have to understand…” He swallows, looking me in the eye. “The Empire isn’t _corrupted_. It’s always been corrupt. The people committing atrocities aren’t deviating from guidelines, they’re _following_ them. These orders come straight from higher-up.”

I frown. “Now, there’s no proof of that. No need to make pointless accusations.”

“They’re not _–_ ” His voice spikes in emotion for a moment, then he calms himself. “You _have_ to believe me, Monty. I’m speaking the truth. Ask anyone here. The Empire is not the benevolent government you think it is.”

“If I’d ask anyone here, they’d agree, obviously.” I’m not even feeling what I’m feeling. “‘Cause you rebels all think the same thing. Just like everyone at the Empire thinks the same thing! See, we all just need to look at it from the other’s point of view here. So I really think conversation is our best _–_ ”

“ _Monty_.”

I stop, words dying away in my throat. Percy’s looking at me, falling apart like he did after our kiss but worse. Neither of us knows what to say. I made up for that by spouting whatever words appeared in my brain. He struggles to get past the first syllables.

“Monty, _please_ be serious. You’ve seen what they’ve done, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. The Emperor…” He trails off, checking for my reaction.

Instantly, I’m on edge. “What about him?”

And then, Percy breaks completely. “ _How can you defend him?_ After everything he’s done to you, how can you still think he’s a good person? That he has  _anyone’s_ best interests at hand, besides his own?”

“What do you mean, everything he’s done to me?”

His shoulders slump, gaping at me in disbelief. “Monty, he’s  _abusive_ . You have to understand that. He’s hurt you so many times. How can someone like that _–_ Why would he lead his Empire any better?”

I feel like I’ve been mentally taking steps back at least twelve times during this conversation. I’ve distanced myself from all these things I don’t want to hear, my body running on autopilot, but suddenly I’m flung right back in, going from absent to so enraged my vision blurs with it. “ _What_ did you say?”

Percy flinches for a moment, but then he rights himself, something defensive in his expression. “He hits you, Monty, that’s not normal. Even if everything else I’ve claimed about the Empire is wrong—that alone makes him an awful person. You deserve better.”

He’s right. He’s right. I know he’s right. But I can’t just let him  _say it like that_ .

“ _Did I?_ ” I snarl, then instantly regret starting my counterargument like this. “It—It doesn’t—Every father is rough on his sons. And most sons behave far better than I do, so _–_ ” I’m flailing, wanting to scream but not finding any words for it. “I’m an asshole, okay? I’m supposed to be the Empire’s heir, take it over and not let my father down but that’s all I’ve ever done. I haven’t got a fucking clue what the Empire does because I’ve never cared. From when I was a baby people expected things from me, and I could never live up to it. You think I might’ve tried harder, huh? That that’s what any reasonable person would’ve done? _No_. I ran away from it. I got drunk and slept around and _purposefully_ made it worse because I’m just that shitty of a person. I’m supposed to be a figurehead of the Empire because everyone is looking at me and what do I do? I make a fool of myself. I throw away all my privileges just to piss off my hardworking father because I’m a spoiled brat and I’m a disgrace and the universe would just be better off _–_ ”

I cut myself off. I can’t say it. I’m out of breath, panting, staring at Percy’s horrified face.

These aren’t my words. I almost feel the pain of the hits they’re usually accompanied by.

“So don’t,” I say, feeling like I’ve run a mile, “don’t talk about things you don’t fucking understand. Maybe I did deserve it.”

“You didn’t.”

“ _Yes_ , I did.”

“Did I?”

That halts me. I find pain in Percy’s eyes, pain, disappointment, maybe, and… is that pity? “This isn’t fucking about you,” I say, voice low.

“You’re right, it’s not.” Percy looks as tired as I’m feeling. He tilts his head back, rubbing his forehead, and I feel like I’ve said something wrong and done something wrong and always the same— _wrong, wrong, wrong_. It stokes the fire inside me like oil, but I keep it behind gritted teeth, readying to lash out again at the right time.

Percy bites his lip. “Your father is wrong, you know. About everything. But most importantly about you.”

“I’ll be sure to mention that,” I say poisonously, “when I get back home in a few days and tell him all about the rebels that kidnapped me. I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear it.”

Percy sighs, all defiance leaving his posture, his head hanging limp. “I’m going to bed,” he says. “I’m still not feeling entirely well.”

“Do that.”

Part of me still wants him to argue. Part of me wants him to to stay, to take me in his arms, to tell me again that I didn’t deserve it. Part of me wants to believe it.

Percy gives me one last look. Then he turns away from me.

“Goodnight, Monty.”

He walks away.

  
  


I’m working my way through my second bottle of nicked spirits and I’m still fuming. I’m angrier than I’ve ever been and I can’t even articulate what I’m angry about. I want to scream. I want to break something. Even getting drunk doesn’t dull the ache.

I’m wandering through the hallways. It’s around dinnertime, so thankfully I don’t run into anyone. I’m not even sure what floor I’m on. The world around me is hazy but not damn nearly hazy enough. Inside me, my thoughts keep spinning, bashing against my skull like waves against cliffs, and I couldn’t shut up the storm inside me if I had all the alcohol in the world.

Well, if that were the case, technically, I could.

I pass by a door. It’s familiar, though it takes me some time to figure out why. Inside, there are big screens against a wall, control panel in front of it, desk chair in the middle. I let myself fall down in it, spinning half a circle before pushing myself back. The screens are in sleep mode. I tap them, desktop lighting up.

This room is my line to Sinjon and Felicity.

I’m linking my communicator to it, opening up a program and typing in some codes like Sim showed me. My hands move on their own. I have no real plan.

A window pops up, indicating it’s making the call. I wait, absently following the little loading circle with my eyes. Right when I’m about to give up and maybe head back to the kitchens, an image appears.

“Hey,” Sinjon says, a little out of breath. He’s still getting settled, throwing his jacket over the back of his chair and pulling himself closer to the desk. “I was at dinner. What’s going on?”

I shrug. I don’t know. I don’t know why I called him. I have no idea what to say.

After a while of waiting, he frowns. “Henry? Are you… all right?”

I shrug again.

“Are you _–_ wait.” He leans in close to the screen, eyes moving down to the bottle in my hand. “Are you drunk?”

Another shrug. “Mm.”

“Uh.” He shrinks back, eyes darting left and right and looking very uncomfortable. “Do you, uh… want to talk about it?”

I snort. I can’t help it. “If I remember correctly, you were never much of a talker.”

Sinjon falters, going a little red. He folds his arms. “Well. That was a while ago.”

“What _did_ happen to you? After…?”

It’s funny. I’ve never once wondered what became of lovely blue-eyed Sinjon Westfall after his notes were discovered in my room at Eton. I’m not sure if there was any direct evidence against him, though I suppose there must’ve been something.

“Ah, well.” He pulls up his shoulders. “They suspected it was me. They were almost certain, really, but my mother came by and, uh… bribed them.”

Bribery. Why didn’t my father think of that? Then again, the evidence against me was a bit too strong. And I guess he just didn’t trust me on my own in an all-boys boarding school anymore.

He was right to, of course.

“They let me stay,” he continues. “But, um. Well. People knew. And… my mom knew. She doesn’t trust me anymore. I, uh… I graduated a few weeks ago, and I think she’s planning something. I don’t really know. She hasn’t looked at me the same since she found out.”

I stay silent.

“Funny how these things can change, isn’t it.” He’s half talking to himself, a small smile on his lips that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Once we were two guys at Eton meant to follow in our parent’s footsteps. Now I’m stuck at home with no idea what the future will bring and you’re stuck with the rebels. And with your…” His smile fades, eyes briefly meeting mine. “You never mentioned you had a soulmate.”

I blink, barely even making sense of this entire conversation. “Should I have?”

“I don’t know.” He pauses. Forces that smile again. “So… what’s it like?”

“Hm?”

“Having a soulmate?”

“Oh. It’s…” I sigh. My mind is becoming sluggish, the storm of thoughts settling into the soil, leaving imprints so deep I don’t know if they’ll ever go away.

What  _is_ having a soulmate like?

I think about growing up and always having someone within metaphorical arm’s reach. I think about having every emotion amplified and sharing inside jokes and feeling his pain but never wanting to have it any other way, because he does the same for me. I think about two souls entwined, about a lifetime shared, about inexhaustible comfort, right next to my heart.

And I think about our fights and the hurt look in his eyes and I want to hit something again.

“It’s… I don’t know,” I say. “What’s it like _not_ having a soulmate?”

“Lonely, I guess.” He pulls up his knees so his feet are on the chair, staring into nothing with a sad kind of wistfulness. It’s weird. I’ve never seen him like this. Sinjon and I never did… _feelings_ , or anything like that. He never asked about mine and I never wondered about his.

This entire day has been so fucking weird.

“But I’m happy for you, though.” He sits up, nodding. “You, uh. Deserve it.” Then he sighs deeply, resting his head on his knees. “Shit. I’m so bad at this.”

That makes me laugh. “I never did take an interest in you for your people skills and empathy.”

It gets a smile out of him. “I mean it, though. I, uh…” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve had some time to think things over and I realized… I realized I wasn’t very good to you. Back at Eton. I never… I never really cared about you. I was just thinking about myself. And I regret that. You didn’t… I’m sorry. About Eton. I really am.”

He’s looking pained. I have no idea what’s going on.

I’ve never thought about our time together like this. Sure, I know we were never a lovey-dovey happily-ever-after kind of couple. Our interest in each other was rather superficial. And, from my side, I was fairly interested in his little alcohol smuggling business. Were there some situations that I should’ve thought about twice? …Maybe. But even if he was just using me for some fun—wasn’t I, too?

I’ve always known I was going to end up with my soulmate. It was what I wanted. Every fling before that was just a way to pass the time.

Was I doing wrong by him, too?

_Ugh._ I’m sick of all these overturning truths today. My brain can’t take any more re-evaluating my entire life. I’m sick of everything and everyone and I just want to  _break_ something. My options are rather limited, though, if I don’t want anyone to find out about it.

Unless.

“I want to sabotage the Crown and Cleaver.”

He lifts his head, startled from the moment. He’s watching me, as if he isn’t sure he heard correctly. “Wh-What?”

I sit up, getting determined. “I’m inside, aren’t I? Might as well do something useful with it.”

“But I thought… What about your plan with the Mines?”

“That’s just to get back home. But now I’m here, I’ve got an opportunity to do some damage.” My heart is beating fast. Something vindictive rises up, flowing through me, something mean and spiteful and destructive. It focuses me, clearing the fog in my head and giving me a purpose. “So what are my options?”

Sinjon seems a bit more doubtful. “Henry, are you  _sure_ this is a good idea? Shouldn’t we talk this over when it’s not so late and you’re less, uh…”

“I might not get another chance like this, so come on! What can I do? Espionage? Write down what I’ve learned? Gather intel?”

“I suppose… That computer you’re on right now, what does it have access to?”

Good question. I move closer, tapping a few icons. “…What am I looking for, exactly?”

“You know what—I’m sending you a thing. Just click it open and I’ll take a look around.”

I do as he says, and a few moments later, windows are popping up on their own. Sinjon’s frowning at the screen. I lean back, watching it all happen.

“This… This is _huge_ ,” he says after a while, a little breathless. “I have access to almost the complete rebel database. If this got into the Empire’s hands…”

I sit up, heart pounding. “Then, what?”

“I _–_ It’s _so much_. Files on every member. Floor plans. Mission reports. Lists of powerful objects in their possession. Information on the entire security system, I _–_ ” He lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Henry, if this got into the Empire’s hands—it could tip the scales in this war.”

It hits me in the face like a bucket of cold water.  _This could end the war._ All the rebels’ secrets delivered directly on the Empire’s doorstep. Everything they ever needed to know and so much more. It would weaken them completely, expose them, make them vulnerable. With the Empire’s manpower and this inside information — it wouldn’t even be a fight.

All I have to do is give the word. Sinjon would transfer the information. The Empire could take out the Crown and Cleaver.

All I have to do is give the word.

I picture it. I get the information to Father. I’d turn from a useless embarrassment who got himself kidnapped, to the hero who brought down the rebels. The key player in their demise. God, what would Father even say? He probably wouldn’t believe me at first. But he’d have to — and  _I_ would bring him what he’s wanted for so long. The only obstacle in his way to power.

Would he be grateful? Would he be… proud of me?

For years I thought my reputation was beyond saving. But this… This is a unique opportunity. No one’s ever had this chance before. And I doubt anyone will ever again.

“Henry?”

I snap out of my thoughts, looking up. “Yes?” I’m a little out of breath, like I’ve been running. My heartbeat is ringing in my ears.

“Do… Do you want me to do it?” He looks nervous, and I get the impression he’s not that keen on the idea himself. He keeps glancing over his shoulder, as if he’s worried he might get caught.

But this is my chance. My one opportunity to redeem myself.

“Do it,” I say.

Sinjon takes out a hard drive and plugs it into his computer, then sets about copying the files. Several minutes tick by during which I feel surprisingly little.

“Okay,” he says, when the loading bar is complete. He pulls out the drive and shows it to me. “This contains all the rebel data I could find. What do you want me to do with it?”

“Send it to my father.”

Once again, hesitation. “I’m not sure _–_ ”

“To his security team, then! They’ll know what to do with it.”

He puts down the drive on this desk. “I’m not sure this is such a good idea, Henry.”

“‘Course it is.”

Reluctantly, he plugs the thing back in and starts typing a message to the Empire. When he’s done, his index finger hovers over the key. “Last chance to back out.”

“No, do it.”

He doesn’t, right away. He checks for my reaction for a long time. I don’t give one. I should probably be feeling something right now, shouldn’t I? I’m about to end the Crown and Cleaver. Make Father proud, if I’m feeling optimistic. And Percy…

God, I can imagine the hurt look on his face so easily. He’s probably wearing it right now, since I still feel his pain throbbing across our bond.  _He’s_ delusional. That’s not my fault. He’s wrong. I’m right. He’s _–_ It’s probably for the best. Everyone is always saying rebel missions are dangerous, right? So if the Empire would be able to arrest everyone, they’d all spend the rest of their lives in prison. They wouldn’t be happy, but Percy _–_ Percy would be safe.

I don’t believe a word of it. I’m desperately trying to justify this to myself, to convince myself I’m doing the right thing. Except… As much as I’ve tried to fight it, that seed of doubt has been planted.  _Would_ the Empire arrest everyone? Can I promise myself none of them will get hurt, or worse?

This is a war. It would be justifiable.

But I don’t want that. I don’t want these rebels—my friends—to get hurt. I don’t want Percy to get hurt. Percy, with whom I’ve made plans and battled spaceships and did hours upon hours of dishes, who I sang karaoke with and who gave me another chance today. Percy, whom I kissed. Whose smile is the sun and whose heartbeat and mine are one and the same.

I see Sinjon lower his hand, toward the key.

“Wait!”

He pulls back like he burned himself, then he smiles wearily. “Wait?”

“Look…” I sit up, not really sure how I’m going to explain this. “I think it’s best to wait to pass it on until I’m out of here. If the Empire comes barging in with inside information, they’ll know it was me, right? So better wait until I’m out of reach.” That’s a suitable excuse. “And consider it… leverage. It’s in your hands now, right? So how about we agree that… every day, I have to send you a code, before noon. As long as you get it, you know I’m fine. But if they double-cross me and imprison me or something, you’ll know something is off and you can alert someone”

“Sounds fair.” He leans forward on his elbows again, presumably to delete the message he was about to send the Empire. It’s okay. I’ve got this under control. I have several plans, and everything will work out just fine. No harm in a little leverage. “All right, what code are we using?”


	15. The Mines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so. uhh. things happen in this chapter. enjoy (?)

Percy isn’t in bed when I wake up the next morning. I sigh, send Sinjon the code, and roll over. I have absolutely nothing to do except be pissed off, so I decide to go back to sleep.

I don’t see Percy the rest of the day either, and I wonder how long he’s going to keep up his sulking. We are leaving for the Mines tonight, and I am not postponing my return home for the sake of his emotional turmoil.

My emotions are fine, by the way. The only thing I am right now is tipsy and that is exactly the way I want it to be.

After dinner I find myself in a bathroom. No one else is there so I take off my mask and splash some water in my face, nerves racking against my ribs with every breath I take. I look up, and almost start upon seeing my reflection.

For a second, I didn’t recognize myself.

I sigh, rubbing the water off my face with a towel, and put my mask back on. I look at myself. A different look, a different name. I even feel like a different person. A fake backstory. People I’ve tricked into caring about me.

I think about that all it took for people to love me was to be someone else, and I feel sick to my stomach.

  
  


Percy is—fortunately or unfortunately, that’s still up for debate—waiting for me in the shadows of the Eleftheria when I arrive there at eleven. He barely looks up when I get there, just climbs into the ship. I don’t even have the energy to spare to roll my eyes at him.

By the time I’m closing the latch after me, he’s already in the chair, starting up the ship. I sit down on one of the benches, resting my head against the wall.

I’m a bit nervous, but that is mostly buried by how fucking tired I’m feeling.

No one tries to apprehend us and we exit the base without being noticed. A few buttons pushed and levers pulled, and we’ve entered hyperspeed.

The ride there takes almost an hour. The Peripheral Mines are, aptly, located at the edge of the known universe. What lies beyond those borders, no one is really sure, nor brave enough to find out. We drop out of hyperspace at the edge of the system. Percy turns on the invisibility shields and slowly creeps closer to our destination.

I stand up to join him at the windshield, if only for the view.

The Mines are, essentially, a giant asteroid. Several mechanical constructions are placed at uniform distances from each other to correct its course and keep it in the solar system, as its natural course leads outside, into the unknown. The Mines are a bit too valuable to release into the wild.

It has a few artificial moons, containing the headquarters of the guard, including their apartments and living spaces. Between them, pods fly back and forth. It’s buzzing like a beehive. They really weren’t kidding when they said this place was heavily guarded.

“Okay,” is the first thing Percy says after ignoring me for over twenty-four hours. “The next transport should be here in fifteen minutes. We’ve got until then to land and get into the hall of arrivals.”

“And how are you going to get past their radar?”

We both jump and turn around. From the darkness of a corner, Sim emerges, arms crossed and looking unhappy.

“Sim!” Percy scrambles. “We _–_ uh _–_ this isn’t…” He sighs. “This is exactly what it looks like.”

“Thought so.” She joins us at the dashboard. “You two need to work on your stealth.”

“We were plenty stealthy!” Percy argues.

“Oh, come on. You know all computers keep logs of what happens on them. If you don’t bother to delete them…”

Percy’s eyes widen. “Did anyone else see them?”

“No, because I deleted them for you. Seriously, Percy, you’d start to believe you joined the rebels yesterday.”

He sighs. “Sorry, Sim.”

“No time for that. You’ve got ten minutes left and I haven’t heard a decent plan yet.”

“You’re not stopping us?” I ask.

She shrugs, eyes cast down. “I think you’re both morons for taking on the risk. But if we could get the coordinates…”

“I thought the Commodore had given up on that?”

“He has.” Her jaw sets. “He thinks we’re safe in the base. I know better. It’s not a long-term plan.” She looks out of the windshield, and nods toward the right. “There they come. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Percy takes the steering wheel again, a crooked smile curling his lips. “I do.”

We hide near some debris, waiting for the transport ship to pass by. None of us say a word. The ship is bigger than ours, slowing down as it approaches the Mines. It passes through the asteroid belt where we’re hiding, barely even taking notice of the rocks colliding with it. It’s huge, and sturdy, and our ticket into the Mines.

When it’s less than fifty yards away from us, Percy starts the Eleftheria up again, swiftly maneuvering toward it, until we’re hovering right above. We follow it, sticking to its pace, perfectly invisible.

“When the guards look onto their radar, all they’ll see is one dot,” Percy says, sounding pleased with himself. Sim hums.

The Mines take up our entire vision when we’re close to it—a giant rock, grey and jagged and ominously looming. We enter the docks, and Percy steers us away from the transport ship. We fly to a lower level, which is fortunately abandoned. The ship slows to a stop, engine turning off.

My nerves spike again. My organs are living creatures inside me, crawling against my ribs in search of a way out.

“All we have to do now…” Percy breaks the silence, “is decide who goes in.”

We hadn’t decided on that yet. We were going to in the days after that disastrous karaoke night, but circumstances got in the way.

It’s not really a question for me, though. I’ve already made up my mind.

“I’ll do it.”

Sim and Percy look at me. It’s hard to tell what’s in their eyes. Is it doubt? Worry? Fear?

Percy casts his eyes down. “No, it’s fine. I’ll go.” He wants to stand up, but I put my hand on his shoulder and push him back down.

“I’m going in,” I say decidedly. “If the worst thing happens and I get caught… I’m still the Emperor’s son.”

He bites his lip. “Sim can look after the ship now. I can come with you.”

“No.” I’m really not changing my mind on this. “Suppose I get the code but don’t make it out—I can still pass it on.”

Sadness settles into Percy’s features, corners of his mouth pulling down in something bordering on desperation. A second of hesitation. “Monty, about _–_ the hospital ward. I still wanted to say _–_ ”

“You have to go _now_ ,” Sim cuts him off. “Now or never.”

I lock eyes with Percy for one more second, forcing a smile. “Well. Wish me luck.”

No one does.

Outside the ship, the air feels too thin to breathe comfortably. I don’t stop to think about it, just check if no one is looking and run up a staircase, to the docks where the transport ship landed. A group of about two dozen people, varying in everything from age to build to species, are getting off. The only thing they have in common is their matching expressions of defeat.

I sneak closer, hiding myself in alcoves, until I’m right behind them. I wait until no one is paying attention. Then I join the group.

My heart flails itself against the base of my throat for a full two minutes, before I slowly start to accept no one noticed me. I’m just another one of many faces now, none of them important.

Once everyone has gotten off, we’re guided inside through a vast hall, excavated from the rock and supported by wooden beams. Footsteps echo all around, mixing with distant rumbling and clattering. Inside, the air is moist. The deeper we go, the colder it gets. I’m shivering within five minutes.

We pass by a final guard post. The giant iron fence is lifted, like we’re entering a medieval castle from pre-Nova Earth. We all shuffle inside. It’s dropped behind us again, the impact agitating dust.

Okay. So far, so good.

After about ten minutes of walking, we reach another hall. It looks just as unstable as everything else here, with seemingly random wooden boards around and ropes, pulleys and bright white lights attracting insects placed haphazardly. A rusty track of rails disappears into a dark tunnel.

It sends a shiver down my spine.

“All right,” one of the guards says, once we’ve lined up. He’s got his arms folded behind his back. His uniform is slightly different than the others, so he must be in charge. “All of you are first undergoing a test to verify you’re actually Linked. And before anyone gets any ideas about pretending not to be to get out of here—I can assure you that if you’re in this group and we find out you’re not Linked, your fate is about to become a lot worse than a lifetime of working in the Mines.”

I frown. What does he mean,  _get out of here_ ? Everyone is here willingly, right?

“You will wake up every morning at six. Breakfast is at six thirty. Shift starts at seven. Dinner is at eight p.m. Lights go out at nine. Any questions?”

His tone very plainly states he will not be accepting any questions. No one asks any.

I’m confused, though. This is an imperial enterprise. These hardly seem like reasonable labor conditions, especially for imperial standards.

It suddenly strikes me I have yet to see a single imperial crest here.

We queue up, waiting for this so-called test. I try to see what’s going on in front, but I’m too far away. Everyone’s called forward one by one, disappears from view, and returns to a table where tools are handed out.

I finally arrive up front. I’m presented with five plain-looking rocks on a table, and behind it, a bored woman sits. “Which one has astridium in it?” she asks monotonously.

Oh. That kind of test. Shit. I really don’t have enough experience yet with this whole Linked-thing. My hand hovers above the stones. I take a steadying breath, close my eyes, and think about how I found Percy two nights ago.

At that, the feeling tells me to head back the way I came, which isn’t helpful at all.

_Not Percy_ , I tell it.  _The mineral._

“I haven’t got all day, kid.”

I start, pulled from my concentration. “Just a moment,” I insist. I close my eyes again and focus.

I feel a faint tug, this time actually toward the table. I reach out and pick up one of the rocks. The lady checks the number on it, verifying it with the help of a notepad, and nods. Then she takes out five new rocks and makes me choose, and after that, once more. She gestures I can move forward to the table handing out tools.

That’s where I am, about to complain about the weight of the bag I’m handed, when I hear a cry. The girl that was behind me—now undergoing the test—attempts an escape, but she barely gets halfway through the hall before she’s tackled by a guard. He holds her down while another puts on handcuffs. She is then hauled to her feet. She still tries to break free, but she’s not strong enough. The guard that spoke up earlier approaches her, arms crossed. He watches her for a while as she struggles.

My heart is pounding.

“It’s been a while since we’ve had a non-Linked try to pass here,” he then says.

The girl looks downright murderous. She’s still for a moment, but then, out of nowhere, she tries to attack him. She doesn’t get very far.

“My brother!” she cries. “You have to let him go! He’s only sixteen!”

The man kneels down, as one might do to speak to a small child. He considers her for a while. “And why would I do that?”

“Please.” She’s really crying right now. “He’s been here for over a year. _Please_.”

The guard rolls his eyes, giving a short nod at his colleagues, who start dragging the girl away. “Let’s see how much help you are to your brother locked away for the rest of your life,” he says.

“Who the _hell_ do you think you are?”

Everyone else seems just as shocked as I am that I’ve spoken. They turn to me, slowly, looking bewildered. The other people in the queue seem horrified. Several people gasp.

The guards look… entertained.

The one in charge approaches me, temporarily forgetting about the girl. He’s got a curious look to him. “I beg your pardon?”

I drop the bag. My nervous system registers my mistake before my brain does. I’m terrified, even though I can’t think of a reason to be. I can’t back out now, though. No reason to worry — these are Empire men, and they can’t go running around mistreating people. I take a deep breath. “You have a lot of nerve treating that lady the way you did. Hell, you’ve got a lot of nerve treating  _everyone_ here the way you do! These working conditions are hardly humane, and — _threatening_ your employees? They haven’t even done anything wrong! And — and how so hasn’t that girl heard from her brother? Is the mail system being neglected? What are the wages here, even?” Everyone seems too stunned to respond, so I add on, “If you’re going to treat your employees like prisoners, I will file a formal complaint with the Empire. I’d love to see you talk your way out when they’re visiting and see the horrible state of this place.”

I can’t help it. I guess I’m just used to being listened to; being a royal can get to one’s head. But I’m right—I’m doing the right thing.

Those stupid rebels’ heroism is goddamn infectious.

A long, long moment of silence passes. Then the guards burst out laughing.

It echoes through the room. Some of them are just chuckling, shaking their heads in bemusement, but the one in charge is barking out laughter with shaking shoulders. He wipes a tear from his eye. “Good one,” he says. Then he turns dead serious, taking a step in my direction. I stumble back on reflex.

“Look,” he starts, “I’m not sure where it is they grow brainless imbeciles like you, and if you’re really just stupid or if this is some waste-of-time attempt at bravery, but you made me laugh, so I’ll let you off with a warning. If I ever hear you causing trouble again, I’m having you thrown in the fires, though.”

“You can’t do that!”

He’s started walking away, but now he stops. Turns back. His smile has faded completely, and he’s starting to look pissed. “Did I  _hear you_ again?”

“Yes.” I put my foot down, crossing my arms. “Yes, you did. I’m not done—I want you to help that lady find her brother—for _starters_. Then I’d like to speak to whoever’s in charge here.”

The man narrows his eyes at me, expression unreadable. “What’s your brother’s name?” he asks the girl.

She starts. “F-Félix,” she stammers. “Félix Desrosiers.”

The guard pulls back his sleeve and opens up a few windows on his communicator. A long moment passes, during which no one in the hall even moves. Then the man promptly shoves his sleeve back into place. “Died three months ago.” He nods at the other guards. “Take her away.”

“ _What?!_ ” I squeak.

The girl is dragged along, and it takes until she’s almost out of the door before it hits her. “No.  _No!_ You’re lying!  _No!_ ”

Her cries dissolve into wordless screams, muffled when the door shuts behind her.

“Let that be a lesson,” the guard proclaims, turning back to face the group. “I’ll admit that your life expectancy dropped by about seventy percent when you walked through that door, but the mortality rate of escape attempts? _One hundred percent._ We’ve got plenty of workers here, but we’re nice enough to keep you all around, feed you and give you a bed. But if you break our rules, we have no reason to extend that courtesy.”

“No, wait _–_ ” I run after him, grabbing his arm. He looks at me with disgust. “How did he die? How did something like that just happen? Why wasn’t the family alerted?”

He shakes off my grip. “I’m just about done with your antics.”

“Too bad, ‘cause I’m not done yet. I demand to speak to your superior, so we can discuss the awful state of things here _–_ ”

“Who do you think you are, boy?” The guard’s voice is low, a sneer, and somehow, I don’t register the threat in it.

My heart is beating like mad, though. I can’t believe this whole situation. I curse myself for never before caring what went on in the Empire—things are so much worse than I thought.

But I can do something about it.

Perhaps a little too theatrically, I take off my mask and announce, “Prince Henry Montague.”

Altogether, this is what someone with less sense for drama might describe as a ‘bad idea’.

The gasps have barely passed through the hall when the guard starts laughing again. It’s less humored than last time, though—more mocking.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” he says.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Listen, _Your Highness_ ,” he snaps, “I’m giving you one final chance to shut up and get back in line, or I’ll _make yo_ _u_.”

“You can’t talk to me like th _–_ ”

I don’t even see him raise his fist. The impact sends me stumbling, thrown off balance until I hit the ground, bruising my elbow and scraping the side of my hand. Only then the pain starts to register—rising slowly like water starting to boil, then overflowing, until it’s the only thing I can feel. All sound is suddenly muted and my vision blurs. I clench a hand to the bruise, shoulders pulled up, and in a second this whole plan went from reasonable to impossible. It feels real in a way it didn’t before.

“Get back on your feet,” I hear distantly.

_Get up. Get up and stop crying and take it like a man._

But before that voice can make me shrivel up completely, another demands my attention—warm, concerned, and caring.

_Monty?! What was that? Are you all right? Did you get caught?_

I can’t reply. All I can think about is how terribly much I want to get out of here, to go back home (wherever that is), to curl up in bed and cry.

_Are you in danger?_ Percy demands again, but he seems to realize this isn’t getting him anywhere. So he softens.  _Monty. Listen to me. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere._ He falters  _Do you want us to get you out of there?_

I do. So badly, I do.  _I don’t have the code yet._

_I don’t care about that stupid code! You’re hurt, Monty_ _–_

I miss the rest of his sentence when the guard grabs me by the shoulder and hauls me upright. I flinch so badly I almost fall over again. He grins coldly. “Were you saying something, Your Highness?”

I can’t even look him in the eye.

“Thought so. Now, move along, everyone! Show’s over.”

I think he’s finally, blessedly, about to leave, but then he raises his hand again, and laughs when I stumble back. When he’s finally gone, I scramble for the bag I dropped and my mask, then follow the rest of the group into the tunnel. I hoist the bag over my shoulder and refasten my mask. I’m not sure when or why that mask became something of a safety blanket to me. I wipe at my nose. It leaves behind a bloody smear on my hand.

The last members of our group pass their tests, and then we’re guided deeper into the mines, passing by several heavy doors. I’m ambushed by the fear that I might never get out of here. I could be stuck here for the rest of my days, in these cold caverns, working until my hands bleed, at the mercy of the guards. I could die here and I could never see Percy again.

_I’m right here, Monty. I’m with you every step of the way._

I’m nodding, my breathing speeding up, panic building like a volcano about to erupt. I barely even see my surroundings. I follow along, feeling like I might faint.

_Deep breaths, Monty. In through your nose, hold it for a few seconds, out through your mouth, slowly. You can do it. I’ll count, okay?_

I nod again. Percy guides me through breathing exercises that get easier the longer I’m doing it. I know he’s worried over me, but he’s keeping it together, and that helps.

We finally arrive at what must be our destination. There’s only three guards left with us, and the one in command isn’t here, which really helps my attempts to calm down.

“Fifteen pounds of astridium per person, every day,” one of them announces. “If you can’t manage that—no dinner.”

With that, they leave, gate falling closed behind them.

A defeated silence falls over us. All we can hear is the distant clanking of pickaxes. One member of our group sits down against a wall, knees pulled up, and starts to sob into their arms. A handful rummage through their bags. Some start wandering about.

I’m still trying to breathe properly, my every exhale crystallizing the second it leaves my mouth.  _Fuck, it’s cold here._

I can almost feel his weary smile.  _Are you all right?_

_Yeah, I’m fine._ Sort of. I wipe at my nose again. Goddamn, it’s still bleeding.  _Part one of our plan was successful. Onto part two._

_What happened?_ Percy still asks, as I shift the bag’s weight on my shoulder — it’s heavy. I sigh and, as I begin picking my way through the tunnels, give him an abridged version of the events.

_So yeah. I almost blew it before it’d even properly started_ , I conclude. I’m deeper into the tunnels here — they’re more narrow, there’s fewer lights, and less people look up from their mining as I pass by. They’re all covered in filth and far too thin.

Percy doesn’t reply right away.  _I should’ve gone in_ , he eventually says.

_Yeah, you’d probably have known better than to pick a fight._

_No, Monty, I…_ He trails off.  _That was brave of you._

_It was pointless._

_Still._ A pause.  _Where are you right now?_

_In the Mines._

_Ha, ha._

_I don’t know. I forgot to count how many doors I passed. Wait, one moment._

In a side passage, I see a boy working on his own. He’s wedged between the rocks, arm up to his elbow into a breach he probably dug himself, tongue between his teeth. He seems to find what he’s looking for, as he reemerges with a small chunk of rock in his hand. It glows faintly blue.

_Astridium._

“Excuse me,” I start, as he tosses the rock into his bag. “Could you tell me where I am?”

He looks me up and down. “You’re new,” is his only conclusion. He has a bit of an accent.

“How can you tell?”

“You look good.”

I snort. “That’s fair.” I extend a hand. “I’m Monty.”

He shakes it, and I instantly regret it, as his hands are covered in soot. “Félix,” he says.

“Nice to m _–_ Wait. Félix? Félix Desrosiers?”

His eyes widen. “Yeah?”

“You’re _alive_?” I gape.

“Um.” He looks nervous. “Should I not be?”

“Not according to the guards. I mean _–_ I just saw your sister. She was here. She tried to sneak in—she wanted to get you out! But they told her you were dead.”

His expression drops. “Oh, no. Please, no.” He lets himself slump down against the uneven wall, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “Where is she now?”

“I don’t know. They took her away somewhere.”

“ _No_.” He buries his face in his hands. I think he might start to cry. Then he suddenly jumps to his feet, kicking against his bag. A series of French phrases escape him that I don’t understand but that I’m pretty sure are mainly composed of swearing. “Could you excuse me for a second?” he says then, before turning away.

I watch him for a while do apparently nothing. Then I start to notice his hands faintly twitching, his expression moving, as if he’s having a conversation no one else can hear. Then it dawns on me.

“You’re talking to your soulmate,” I say. He nods, vaguely, then lifts a hand as one might do while on a phone call.

It’s ironic that, in spite of the time I’ve spent with the rebels, this is the first person I’m meeting with a soulmate, besides Percy and myself.

That I know of, anyway.

“No, please,” Félix suddenly whispers, and I’m not sure he knows he spoke aloud. “I can’t bear to lose you to this place, too…”

He sniffs, and I realize he’s crying.

“Your soulmate,” I start. “Is… They aren’t in here, are they?”

He shakes his head. “Thank God for that. He’s the only thing keeping me going these days.” He pulls his sleeves over his hands and wipes away his tears, which has just about the opposite effect, thanks to the smudges it leaves behind. “What about yours?”

“Oh, he… He’s outside. I…” I waver. “So this place really is a prison, huh?”

He laughs, a squelch of a sound. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

And suddenly, I remember the horror on my mother’s face when I was five and I told her about the little voice in my head.

_They really do round up Linked for this place, don’t they?_ I say quietly.

Percy doesn’t reply right away. He sighs.  _I’m really sorry, Monty._

Fuck. I’m really going to have to have that chat with Father when I get back, don’t I.

“But…” I’m still processing everything. “They don’t cut us off. We can still keep contact with the outside world, through our soulmate, right? Isn’t that a risk?”

He chuckles. “Well, they can’t put on inhibitors, because then we wouldn’t be able to find the astridium, right? But it’s hardly even a risk—the security measures are nigh impossible to breach. They’re counting on us to ask our soulmates for help, actually. Gets them two for the price of one.”

“That’s horrifying.”

“That’s the Empire for you.”

“But it’s not _–_ ” I cut myself off. I doubt this guy, who is actively crying as he’s been imprisoned for over a year and has just heard his sister has been taken off to who knows where, will have ears for my argument the Empire itself isn’t evil. I sigh. God, I can’t even blame anyone for resenting the Empire anymore. Even if my father isn’t directly behind this— _which he isn’t_ , I correct myself—he’s at the very least got neglectful leadership to account for.

God, did I actually just think that?

Félix sighs, still scrubbing the tears from his eyes. “Look, it’s — you won’t die here right away. Just keep your head down, do your work, and you’ll be fine. Don’t trust anyone, though. Always keep your loot close — _everyone_ is prepared to steal when a meal depends on it. And _–_ ”

“No,” I say. “No, I’m _–_ I’m not staying here. I’m getting out. Today.”

He blinks at me. “You’re aware there’s no way, right?”

I glance over my shoulder. No one’s nearby, and the clanking of pickaxes obscures most conversations. I step closer. “I’m with the Crown and Cleaver. I let myself get caught on purpose, because I need to speak to someone who’s being held captive here. Which is why I need your help—the man I’m looking for is in sector 12-C. So—where are we now?”

Félix has been taking it all in with big eyes, stunned from his crying. Then he looks suspicious. “Is this some kind of a trap?”

“What? No. How could this be a trap?”

“See if I take up the offer to escape, give them an excuse to hurt me?” He scoffs, picking up his bag again. “No, thanks. Did my sister _actually_ get caught, or was that just a lie, too?”

“No, I swear it wasn’t _–_ ” Why is this going so poorly? “Look. I’m not even asking you to escape with me. All I want to know is where we are right now.”

He considers me for a long time, and something about the way his eyes shift tells me he’s talking it over with his soulmate. His brow creases. “You… You really know a way out?”

“I do.” God, I hope I do.

He presses his lips together, watching me for a long time. Then he sighs. “I’ll help you. On one condition.”

Oh, great.

“You help me get to my sister and get out of here.”

“…It was kind of a one-person escape plan in my mind.”

“Then, no deal.”

“I don’t need a deal. I could just go ask anyone else.”

“And how can you know they won’t tell the guards right away?”

“How do I know _you_ won’t tell the guards right away?”

He falters. Suddenly, he looks exhausted. “You’re right, you don’t.” He leans back against the rock. “But I’m not sure I can trust you, either, so I guess that makes us even.”

Hm. He has a point—I’ve memorized maps, but that’s nothing compared to the real deal. I could use help from someone who knows his way around.

Also — I  _really_ want to get on with things.

“Deal. But we’re leaving now.”

  
  


“You want to go through _there_?!”

“Shh!”

We’re lingering near the main hall of this sector, hiding around a corner and watching the guards. Two of them are posted near the astridium depository, and regularly, a pair on patrol passes by.

Félix slinks back, breathing heavily. “We are going to get caught.”

“If you keep talking—yes, we will.” I’m watching the guards, trying to figure out a way past them. “Damn it, they don’t leave, do they?”

Félix glances up at them, then at the large clock above the doors. “It’s only five minutes until lunchtime. Then they switch. Only about two minutes between, though.”

“That’s perfect.”

We wait, watching the minutes tick by. When the clock hits the hour, there’s a buzzing noise, and the guards leave. The door falls closed behind them.

I take one last look around, grab Félix’s arm, and run for the depository.

Every sector of the mine has an astridium depository, which is essentially a large metal container all the mined rocks are tossed into. These containers are connected via a network of narrow shafts with automated tracks, so the astridium can be transported anywhere through the facility. Most importantly, it passes by a control room to be checked before it’s exported, and that’s exactly where we want to get.

Once we’ve both crawled atop the pile of glowing rocks, I reach out to the control panel beside it and press the button.

The latch at the bottom opens and we fall down about four feet, landing harshly between the minerals in a narrow shaft. My bruised jaw knocks against my arm and I wince. I push myself up and look around, only to find that, now the latch above us has closed again, it is nearly completely dark. The astridium glows faintly, which I’m sure will be some help after my eyes have adjusted. I squint, feeling around for the walls and find them sliding away from me. Then I realize we’re moving forward—the conveyor belt in action.

I hear a whimper behind me, and look back. I see a vague silhouette moving “You all right?”

“I think I cut myself,” Félix says.

“Ah, shit. I’m sorry. I should’ve given you a heads up.”

“It’s fine. What’s your plan now?”

“Well.” I sit up, pushing aside some rocks so I don’t have them poking me in the legs. “These tunnels are equipped with machines to sort out the astridium, based on size and weight and—whatever. So even if anyone got in here, they’d still be torn to pieces.”

He gasps. “ _We’re going to be_ _–_ _?_ ”

“No, we’re not.” I rummage around in the hidden inside pocket I had sewn into my jacket especially for this mission, just in case they’d check. “This,” I present the object, knowing fully well he can’t see it, “is an EMP.”

“…A what?”

“It’s an _–_ ” _Percy, what’s EMP short for again?_

_Electro-magnetic pulse? Monty, what are you doing?_

_Shh, everything’s under control._ “It’s a device that sends out an electro-magnetic pulse.” I press it against the wall and it attaches itself with a  _click!_ “It shuts down electronics.”

I press the button on the back, and a blue flash of light travels over the walls. I hadn’t even realized how loud all the machinery had been buzzing until they slow to a stop. My ears ring with it for a moment.

“We’re gonna have to move,” I say.

We crawl through the shaft on all fours, and I put my hands down on the sharp rocks more often than I’d like. I whine about it to Percy when I’m not updating him on where we are so far.

Behind me, I hear a snort. I stop. “Did you say something?”

“No, I just…” I hear the smile in his voice. “My soulmate was calling me a reckless idiot for what I’m doing right now. And I can’t argue with him.”

I smile. “Have you met him, yet?”

“No.” That faint twinge of sadness. “I was starting to believe I never would, unless he’d get thrown in here, too. And I’d prefer anything over that.” A pause. “Have you met your soulmate?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Only a few weeks back, actually. He’s…” I start crawling again. “He’s a rebel. I mean—he’s a rebel, too. We put up this heist together. He’s waiting for me outside.”

He hums. “How did you two meet?”

“Ah. He, uh. He kidnapped me.”

“ _What?!_ ”

“It’s a long story.”

Félix laughs, a genuine, warm sound. “Romantic.”

“Very.”

Something eases. It feels like the calm in the eye of the storm—we’re in the middle of a prison heist, and we are nowhere near out of the woods, but right now—right now is okay.

“We, um.” I’m not sure why I’m saying this. “We used a code. In two parts. So we’d know it was us when we met.”

“Does that work?”

“It did for us.”

“Oh. That’s a good idea. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

_How many side tunnels did you pass by yet?_

_Six. The next one leads to the control room, right?_

_Yes._

My eyes have gotten used to the dim light, and I spot the tunnel we need several feet ahead. It’s just a short while before it ends in a larger, round chamber, with a platform in the middle and a safety ladder against the opposite wall. It’s warmer here. I stop at the bottom of it, listening intently.

_Is anyone in the control room?_

_No, it’s all clear. You’ve got… ten minutes until the next shift starts._

_Okay._

When I’ve reached the top of the ladder and I’m climbing over the edge, muscles I didn’t even know I had are aching. I lean forward, hands on my knees, and catch my breath for a moment.

_Be glad you sent me in,_ I tell Percy.  _Those narrow tunnels would’ve been awful for those long limbs of yours._

Percy snorts.

Once Félix has climbed out of the basin too, I right myself, and take a look around. It’s about as cliche of a control room you can get—lots of dashboards and panels with buttons and levers and blinking light bulbs. I roll my shoulders back, stretching my arms that are sore from being pulled close for so long, as I examine some screens.

_Five minutes, Monty._

_Fine, fine._

I check back for Félix, who’s still looking around, wide-eyed. In this properly lit room, he looks really filthy, all soot and smudges. I probably don’t look any better, though. I nod at the door.

So far, so good.

I look through the little window. As far as I can tell, the coast is clear. We exit the room. The hallway is broad, brightly-lit and built in white marble, and couldn’t be at a stronger contrast with the mines we just came out of. Soft elevator music plays over the speakers.

As quietly as humanly possible, we sneak through the hallways, following Percy’s instruction. We have yet to run into anyone and I’m feeling more and more optimistic about the chances of our plan’s succeeding.

We reach the lab’s doors. Several guards patrol around here, and my heart flails again.

_Side doors, Monty._

_Right._

We take a bit of a detour until we arrive at said side doors. They’re unguarded, but patrolling guards pass by regularly. I count as soon as one pair disappears around the corner, and find we’ve got about a minute until the next pair shows up. We watch their routine a bit longer, just to be sure—then, as soon as the guards turn the corner, we cross over.

Fifty seconds remaining.

Reflexively, I try the door latch. It’s locked, obviously, so I search in my pocket for the second device I brought along. Félix, who has been nervously glancing around the corner, frowns. “How did you manage to smuggle all of those in here, anyway?”

“They aren’t metal,” I whisper, as I activate the device and press it against the lock. “Doesn’t set off the detectors.”

I hear a series of clicks, and when I try the latch again, the door opens. I remove the device, hurry us inside, and close the door behind.

So far, so good.

The first room we find is relatively small, with a number of screens against a wall and a desk chair in front. Directly across us, there’s a second door, and I unlock it with the device again. I ask Félix to stand guard here, to which he reluctantly agrees.

The second room is a bit bigger, but not much. It’s a meek imitation of homey, a few couches and pillows and fake windows barely taking one’s eyes away from the plain white walls and the security cameras with their watchful and unsleeping eyes. I turn around and indeed find my own image in the room on one of the screens Félix has sat down behind. Well. Best not loiter, then.

I’m already at the next door, unlocking it, when Félix calls, in a whisper-shout: “Monty!”

“ _What?_ _”_

He points at the screens, hesitantly. “I think I know where they’re keeping my sister.”

I can tell what he’s asking, though I don’t know what to reply. Though… I did agree to help them both out of here, and this could save us some time. “Fine.” I glance at the clock. “You’ve got fifteen minutes, then we meet back up as the pipeline control room.”

He nods, wide-eyed and terrified. He’s about to leave, but I call: “Wait!”

He stops. I cross the room and press the unlocking device in his hands. “You may need this.”

He gives me a grateful smile.

I watch him as he listens at the door. When no guards are passing by, he sneaks out and disappears from view.

I take a deep breath and head back to the door I just unlocked, which I suspect leads to Robles. My hand rests on the latch. Okay. This is it.

“Who are you?”

I start so badly I jump. I press myself against the door, looking for whoever spoke. That turns out to be a dark-haired woman who’d been lying down on the couch, blanket wrapped around herself. I hadn’t noticed her until she moved. She looks beyond exhausted as she scrutinizes me with a wary eye.

I recognize her from the pictures I studied in preparation of this heist. “You’re Helena Robles,” I gasp, still catching my breath.

“Who are you?” she repeats, standing up and walking toward me and—okay, she’s pretty tall. I slink back, the bruise on my jaw still throbbing. I notice she’s got a thread tied around her finger, thread that leads—to the door I’m standing in front of, disappearing under it.

I collect myself. “I’m Monty. I’m with the Crown and Cleaver.” I push myself away from the wall and meet her halfway, hoping that will emanate some sense of surety.

She doesn’t look as happy as I think she should, after being imprisoned here for over a month. “Is this a rescue mission?”

“Uh. Sort of. I need to talk to your father about the coordinates.”

A weariness falls over her, like a veil. Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Is this the Empire’s next trick?”

“What? No. I’m actually a rebel.” God, saying that gives me a weird feeling.

She crosses her arms, and the next step forward she takes, I stumble one back. “Then how come I haven’t seen you before?”

“I’m new.”

“Right.”

“Look, I’m _–_ ”

She cuts me off. “Don’t bother. Even if you are a rebel—my father won’t tell you what you want to know.”

I’m wasting time here, and I’m losing my patience. “Why don’t we go ask him, hm?” I take the doorknob and turn it, pushing open the door and gesturing her to go in. “After you.”

Her eyes are wide, mouth open just a little bit as she stares inside. I’m standing awkwardly at the side, waiting for her to enter.

“Helena?” a hoarse voice says.

“Father.” And then she’s running, running through the door and throwing her arms around a man standing in the middle of the room. They hug each other tightly, and I think I hear sobs.

I look away.

This room is huge. There’s no other word for it. It’s domed, metal walls curling together above us, supported by pillars. Almost every inch of it is covered in paper and schematics and screens. Tools I can’t name are scattered across surfaces, materials all over, batteries and plugs and machinery impossible to make sense of. In the middle of the room there are iron support beams, as if something was in construction here but it’s been removed.

Helena and Mateu Robles are speaking in what I think is Spanish, Helena clutching her father’s sleeves and both of them with tears in their eyes. Only now I notice; the red thread tied to Helena’s pinkie—its other end is tied to Mateu’s.

I realize they must be talking about me as they’re both side-eyeing me. Mateu asks a question, Helena replies—tone not very friendly—and Mateu nods.

“You claim you are with the Crown and Cleaver,” he says.

I nod. “I know it may sound unbelievable, but I risked a lot to get in here and I _–_ ” I look at the clock, “ _–_ don’t have much time left. So, please. We need that code.”

“The code?” He pauses. “So you found the escape pod.”

“We did,” I confirm. “Almost died getting that one, too. And almost died again trying and failing to get it decrypted.”

“That’s why you came here.” He sighs. “How are… I assume they made it out, otherwise their well-being would be threatened in order to make me work as well—how are my wife and son?”

“Oh, they’re—they’re fine. Dante explained the Heart to us. And your wife…” I realize I have no clue what she has been up to. _Percy? Mrs Robles made it out as well, didn’t she?_

_… She did, but she was injured pretty badly. She’s been kept in a medically induced coma ever since._

_What?!_

_Didn’t anyone mention that?_

“…she’s fine too,” I lie, smiling so painfully it becomes a grimace. “They’re back at the base.”

Some pain finds its way into Mateu’s expression. “We made a mistake, trying to find that Heart.”

Helena looks away.

“We were obsessed with it,” he continues. “And now we may as well have brought on the destruction of the galaxy as we know it.”

“That’s why the rebels need those coordinates!” I say. “They’ll do right by it.”

“Will they?”

“Look.” I’m getting frantic, obsessively checking the time, and something in me screaming to get out of here. It’s been building in volume ever since that guard struck me, and now my heart is racing with it. “You already built that device for the Empire. How much longer do you think until they find the Heart?”

“They won’t,” he says. “If no one can unlock that box, the secret is safe. I wish I’d just destroyed it when they came after us.”

“It’s not safe!” I’m almost shouting. “You found it by accident too, didn’t you? The blind spots on the map are shrinking. Every day the Empire is out there, expanding, and how much longer until they stumble across it? They’ll have the tools to harness it and the rebels are done for. But not if we _beat them to it._ ”

He seems to be at least a bit impressed by my soliloquy. He considers it for a long time, then he says, “Who is to say the rebels will use it any better?”

“They _–_ ” I cut myself off. This was not the argument I expected I’d need to make. “You’re with them, aren’t you?”

“I am,” he says. “And I believe in their goals. But power can get to anyone’s head. And even if it doesn’t—who’s to say it doesn’t destroy anyone who comes into contact with it?”

Five minutes left.

I’m still struggling for words, when he continues: “I’m willing to believe in your good intentions, and in the Crown and Cleaver’s good intentions. And you are right, the… the Empire will not rest until they find the Heart.” He sighs. “I just wish there was another way.” He locks eyes with me, and I’m taken aback by how determined he looks. “I will give you the code, with my warning to be cautious. On one condition.”

I’m getting tired of all the deals I’m making today.

“You get my daughter out of here.”

Helena starts, turning toward him. “ _What?!_ ” This is followed by a stream of rapid Spanish, panic feathering the words, but Mateu puts a calming hand on her shoulder.

“You are the only leverage they have against me,” he tells her in English. “I fear they may try to make me recalculate the coordinates. They already hurt you so I would build the device.” He smiles sadly. “It’s in the universe’s best interest.”

“Then come with me!” she says, clinging to him.

He takes her hand in his, gently removing the string from her finger. “The last time I spoke to Dante,” he says, and I realize it’s directed at me, “I was playing a song.”

_Monty._

I nod in understanding. “Thank you.”

“Now go.”

I take hold of Helena’s wrist and drag her towards the exit.

_Monty, you have to get out of there._

I wait at the doors, listening for guards, but it’s perfectly quiet in the hallway. We slip outside, making our way back to the control room where I agreed to meet back up with Félix and hopefully his sister.

_I’m just leaving the lab. I’ve got the code! It’s_ _–_

_No, Monty, you need to get out of the Mines_ right now.

_What do you_ _–_ _?_

I pull open the door _–_

 _–_ only to be met with seven guards, two of them holding Félix and the girl from earlier.

  
  


The four of us are made to stand in a line. I’m only barely not panicking, cursing internally and summarizing the situation to Percy. He doesn’t respond right away, though I can feel my terror reflected.

_So what do I do now?_ I ask, genuinely hoping he has some deus ex machina on hand that can be rolled out right now and get us out of here.  _There’s too many guards, we can’t beat them, but maybe if_ _–_

_Monty_ , he cuts me off,  _there’s something else you should know._

There’s an eerie calm in his voice, a forebode to some extremely bad news.

_I think it’s a bit irrelevant as long as we’re still held prisoner_ , I say.

“I’m sorry,” someone whispers, and I start. It’s Félix, standing next to me and staring straight ahead, tears welling up in his eyes. “It’s my fault. They caught me. They caught us because I wasn’t paying attention and _–_ ”

“Doesn’t make much difference now, does it?” I’m not sure why I’m reacting so snappishly. Still, it _is_ his fault. If he hadn’t gone after his sister _–_

But God, if it had been Felicity… If it had been Felicity.

Félix’s sister has been watching me with a curious expression. It takes a while for me to put two and two together—then I remember she witnessed my dramatic unmasking and proclaiming myself to be the Prince.

Which I  _am_ . God, one might almost start to forget.

The door opens, and there arrives… the guard that hit me earlier. I flinch, shrinking back. He’s looking pissed off, regarding our little prison break unit with the utmost disgust. His eyes stop when they pass me by. “You,” he growls.

I recoil, biting on the inside of my cheek.

“Undermining my authority earlier wasn’t enough, was it?” he snaps. I’m keeping my eyes trained on his shoes and clenching my fists, doing everything I can not to run for it. “You just had to take it further and orchestrate the first escape attempt we’ve had in over five years. And before you start feeling too pleased with yourself—we’ve been using that time to come up with what we’d do to the next person who’d try.”

He’s barely a feet away from me, towering over me and I can’t remember a single brave word. Beside me, Félix isn’t doing much better; he’s cowering in place, in spite of the fact that he is not directly being threatened, unlike—you guessed it—me. Helena doesn’t seem too afraid. She’s merely observing the situation.

Félix’s sister, however, seems to be feeling bold. She takes a step toward the guard and says, “Leave him alone.”

She is rewarded for this bravery with a slap to the face.

Out of some instinct I didn’t know I had, I want to reach out and help her. The guard glares at me from the corner of his eye and I slink back. Félix catches her, putting a protective arm around her, but he’s too scared to even defend her.

“Disgusting,” the man hisses, starting to pace. “I’ll make an example of you lot. Remind everyone what happens when you step out of line.” He scoffs. “ _An escape attempt._ I can’t believe it.” Then, directed at me, “With that kind of arrogance, you’d actually start to believe you’re the Pr _–_ ”

He is thankfully cut off when the door is pushed open, and a breathless guard practically falls inside. The other looks up, disturbed, but before he can ask, the new arrival blurts, “He’s here.”

A shock goes through the guards. The man in charge keeps his expression tight, but his eyes are wide. “I thought he wasn’t supposed to get here until five?”

“He’s early, sir.”

A few seconds pass, then the guard curses in a language I don’t speak. “… A prison break, on the  _one day_ _–_ ” is the only thing he says in English, before going right back to spitting foreign words in our faces.

_Monty? Monty, are you okay?_

I get the impression Percy’s been talking to me for a while, but in my defense, I’ve had plenty of reason to be distracted.  _Absolutely not. The asshole who hit me earlier is back, and we’re all going to be locked up for the rest of our lives, best case scenario. This thing really can’t get any worse._

He takes a second to reply.  _…It’s about to._

_What?_

Hesitation.  _Monty, before I tell you, I need you to know that everything is going to be all right. I promise._

Dread wraps itself around my heart, starting to squeeze.  _What are you talking about?_

_We’re getting you out of there. We’re working on it right now._

“Has he heard?” the leader asks.

“Yes, sir. He’s on his way now.”

“ _On his way?_ How long have we got?”

The messenger looks outside, flinches, and pulls back. “He’s here.”

_Percy, if you don’t get to the fucking point right now_ _–_

A young man, dressed in imperial robe, enters the room and clears his throat. “The Emperor,” he announces.

And my father himself walks into the room.

I almost faint on the spot. Father’s dressed in his typical plain suit, and he’s looking as mildly annoyed with the world as ever. His eyes instantly land on us four, and it takes everything in me not to flinch, my hands twitching at my side with the effort it takes not to put them up. He spends a moment studying each of us, and I could swear his gaze gets stuck on me.

_Breathe, Monty. Just breathe._

I can’t. I’m drowning, choking on air, and I’m so scared I might pass out. Time slows down, and the moment drags on for a lifetime, an eternity of being on the brink of being found out, on the brink of suffocating, on the brink _–_

_Monty, listen to me. Deep breaths. Are you wearing your mask?_

I can’t formulate any words, but I think I get an affirmative reaction across, because Percy’s next words are,  _It’s fooled everyone else so far. Maybe_ _–_

_I’m going to die, Percy,_ I whimper.

After what feels like several decades, he looks away, and the weight on my chest alleviates enough for me to suck in some air. Perhaps I’m gasping a bit much, because he briefly looks back.

Then, blessedly, he turns to the guard in charge. “Having some trouble, are we?”

The latter, looking sweaty and terrified, rights himself and does an admirable imitation of a confident tone. “N-no, sir, none at all.”

_He doesn’t know_ , I say breathlessly.  _He doesn’t know._

“Odd,” Father says, “as I was informed there’s been a prison break.”

_He hasn’t recognized me_ . I’m almost repeating it like a mantra to myself.  _He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know._

“Barely a prison break, sir. We caught the culprits before they got anywhere near _–_ ”

“But they got this far, didn’t they?”

The guard shuts up, lowering his head in defeat.

“Tell me, Mr. Cooper. Why is it that the one day I come to inspect this place, I find that the security measures are _lacking_? That a group of _children_ managed to escape this supposedly highly secure facility and didn’t get arrested until they were practically out of the door?” He speaks slowly and deliberately, and I know him too damn well to think he’s calm about this. His every motion makes me want to put my hands up. “Awfully coincidental this has to happen on the day I am here, don’t you think? One of lesser faith may start to think such a thing… happens more often.”

The man freezes up.

“But surely such concerns are unfounded. No other break-outs have been reported over the past few years.” He waves a dismissive hand. Before Cooper can relax, he adds pointedly, “No other break-outs have been _reported_.”

The guard is pale as a corpse. When Father doesn’t continue, he realizes he has to respond. “No other attempts have happened, sir. Our administration is perfectly in order.”

“Hmm.” He turns, facing us again. “So, what’s this all about, then?”

“The one with the blue hair is the mastermind, sir.” Oh, fuck that guy. “He just arrived here a few hours ago. Made a whole fuss. I thought that’d be the end of it, but he escaped the tunnels and freed the Robles girl. One may think it was a planned heist.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“I see,” Father says, eyes coming to rest on me again, and I swear I die right there and then. “The Crown and Cleaver trying to get their scientists back.” He turns away, and I’m quietly gasping for breath again, as if this situation is an ocean and I keep getting pulled under. “That begs the question. How would they know Robles was being kept here?”

No one says a word.

“How would they… manage to get inside without the staff noticing anything unusual? How would they escape the highly secured tunnels, and manage to get all the way to the laboratories, even succeeding at _breaking in there_ , without being caught? I was told this was the most secure prison in the galaxy.” He pauses, deliberately. “Unless… they had inside information. Inside _help_ , perhaps.”

Cooper looks like he’s about to pass out.“Wh… What are you suggesting, sir?”

“Tell me, Mr Cooper,” Father says. “Can you vouch for the loyalty of all your employees?”

Cooper’s mouth is moving, eyes bulging, like a fish out of the water. He’s looking mortified. I’d probably feel a bit smug, if I wasn’t so deadly afraid myself. He stammers his way through a few unrelated syllables, then he finally manages, “Y-Yes, sir. Everyone here is loyal only to the Empire.”

Father waits, giving the man just enough time to think he’s out of the woods. “If it isn’t purposeful malignance,” he then starts, “it must be  _incompetence_ .”

His voice rises at that, and everyone flinches.

Father has his back to me, pretending to take some time to collect himself when he’s actually just dragging this whole thing out. He sighs deeply, arms folded behind his back. “You have… a simple job,” he says. “Keep the Linked in line. That’s all. I sent out elite units to hunt them down, all over the Empire, to capture and to subdue them. I arrange transport to the Mines. I deliver them essentially gift-wrapped to your doorstep. All you have to do is keep them working.”

Something of my father’s monologue makes its way through the thick veil of fear separating me from my surroundings and suffocating me.

What does he mean,  _hunt them down_ ?

“Perhaps the importance of your job is not entirely clear to you. Perhaps you lack an understanding of why, exactly, the Empire so direly needs astridium. Would a brief recapitulation be in order?”

It’s a trap—if he says no, he’s accused of not being involved enough with the cause, if he says yes, he’s an idiot and clearly unsuitable for the job.

The man seems to sense this, because he keeps looking straight ahead, sweating and silent. Father rolls his eyes. “We need the astridium,” he continues, “to continue our expansion. To wage war on planets that have no concept of the potential their natural resources have, so we can take them over. To power our fleet, the very source of protection against those goddamn rebels threatening our livelihood. To power our laboratories, the sources of technological advancement, that build our ships and weapons and everything that sustains our life as we know it.” He’s been slowly pacing back and forth, keeping everyone on edge, but now he stops in front of the guard in charge. “Does that sound  _important enough_ ?”

The man’s nodding like mad, wide-eyed and afraid.

“I thought it might.” Father turns away again. A pause. “How long have you been working here, Mr. Cooper?”

“E-eleven years, sir. Four as captain of the guard.”

“And there have been no problems before, have there?”

The man shakes his head, even though Father can’t see him.

“So there is no reason for me to suspect disloyalty, I’m sure. And incompetence… We all make mistakes. And those rebels… they’re cunning, aren’t they? They’ve gotten away with more than a stunt like this. So acting in good faith, I would not bestow any blame on your doubtlessly highly skilled men.” He sighs theatrically. “I’m sure they did their best.”

As tolerant as it sounds, it’s an insult, and the guards can tell, too. Father goes on for a while about the Crown and Cleaver but I can barely hear it over the ringing in my ears. My brain refuses to make sense of my father’s words, trying to match them up to what I’ve known to be true my entire life.

The Empire is good. It governs, it protects, it thrives. This I could have sworn to be true. But what I’m hearing right now matches less with the history lessons from my childhood, and more with… with what I’ve seen and heard since I arrived at the Crown and Cleaver. The attack on the Robleses’ lab. Scipio’s warning during training. The fight at Versailles. The scars on Jeanne’s wrists. Everything here at the Mines. Percy’s parents…

I thought—I thought even if they are all true, my father couldn’t possibly know about them. If he did, he’d do something about them. But here he is—plainly stating not only is he aware, but they were his intention in the first place.

And then it hits me—the truth I’ve been trying so long and so hard to ignore, to bury, to deny. What I might’ve known all along but that I chose not to hear.

_He knows._

_Knows what?_ comes Percy’s worried reply.  _Did he figure out who you are?_

_He knows, Percy._ I almost choke on it. The room suddenly seems too small and I can’t get enough air.  _Every horrible thing the Empire has ever done. He knows._

“Now, there’s no way to find out how the rebels got all this information,” Father concludes his speech, “unless we ask the rebel present.”

And he turns back to me.

I gasp, stumbling back a step. This must be a common occurrence when he’s threatening people, because it doesn’t seem to remind him of all historical antecedents of this conversation we’ve had. Except those times it was because I’d been expelled from school or he found me so drunk I couldn’t formulate a coherent sentence or, most commonly, because he’d found out I’d been exercising my bisexuality. Right now—if he realizes it’s me, if he realizes I’ve been helping the rebels and orchestrating a break-out in his most secure prison _–_

My vision almost blacks out with fear. I take another step back and I try to breathe but every inhale is so shallow it feeds my panic. Father’s just two feet away, studying me intently, and it takes everything in me not to put my hands up.

_Hold on, Monty, just a bit longer_ _–_

I can’t even reply.

_Please, Monty, just breathe. I’m getting you out of there._

Father’s about to say something, but he suddenly stops. Frowns. Narrows his eyes. Moves in closer, and this is it, this is the part where he figures it out and the part where I die _–_

The ground rattles. It’s only because I’ve been backing away so much that I can grab hold on the wall as everyone else falls over.

“Someone’s firing at the Mines!” one of the guards shouts, reading a message on his communicator, and I take the hint. I grab Helena and Felix’s wrist and push past my father, bolting for the door.

_Nearest emergency exit,_ Percy says.  _Run!_

I don’t need to be told twice. I’ve had the urge to flee the scene since the moment I stepped in here, and fear is good incentive. The four of us head for the thankfully well-indicated emergency exit, running through the hallways and ignoring the shouts coming from behind us. Alarms start blaring and I can’t stop, I can’t think about it, all I can do is run, run,  _run_ .

Right when the exit comes into view, a new squad dashes out, blocking our way. We back up just in time, hiding behind the corner.

“Now what?” Félix asks, voice pitching. We’re pressing ourselves to a wall, catching our breath. He’s looking at me, waiting for _me_ to come with a plan, but I’m still a wreck just from seeing my father and I—oh, God, they’re going to catch us again and he’ll know—he’ll _–_

Behind us, running footsteps approach—the guards we left behind earlier. We’re out of time.

Félix’s sister stands up, eerily calm. She looks down at where I’m sitting, curled up and damn near crying, and says carefully, “You’re really him, aren’t you?”

I’m in no state to reply.

“Promise me the Crown and Cleaver will come for us,” she then says. “All of us.”

I can’t do anything else. I just nod.

“Okay. Now hide.”

Barely two seconds pass before she darts out from our hiding place, stopping long enough for the guards to spot her. Then she runs away.

The guards shout and start running, and Helena and I slink back behind a cabinet. Félix is motionless with shock. “No,” he whispers. “No _–_ ”

I make a grab for his arm, but he’s already running after her. I curse, but the footsteps are still approaching, so I take Helena’s wrist and make for the doors. No one else gets in our way and I practically crash into them, pushing them open, and then I’m outside, the thin air freezing cold.

There’s an iron staircase we run down, leading to a platform with paths on either side. Before I can decide which is our best option, guards appear on both, running toward us, and we have no way to go except straight into open space.

The ground rumbles and before us, the Eleftheria rises like the sun over the ocean. I see Percy behind the windshield, and it’s nearly enough for me to break down. He holds the ship so that the roof is level with the platform, and the latch on top opens, Sim yelling at me to jump.

It’s a considerable distance. But also, about a dozen armed men are seconds removed from getting to me, so I take a few steps back, run as fast as I can, and  _jump_ .

For a moment, I’m weightless, all sound fading, suspended in a moment of delirium, and I think I might’ve died. Then I collide harshly with the Eleftheria’s metal roof, and the pain shooting through me politely reminds me that I am, in fact, alive. Sim grabs my arm and drags me toward the latch, pushing me into it. I expect her to follow but she doesn’t—she’s yelling, and I realize Helena is still on the platform.

“Jump! Now!” Sim shouts at her, but she doesn’t move. She just watches us with a strange melancholy, until the guards reach her and grab her. Sim says something angry in a language I don’t speak, then jumps into the latch after me, right when the bullets start flying. I mostly fall inside, bruising my right arm and leg, as she closes the latch and yells at Percy to take off.

I haul myself to my feet, just in time to see a number of pods take flight and come after us, weapons charging. Percy turns the ship around and then we’re speeding up, away from those cursed Mines, until we’re in open space and we enter warp speed.

A silence falls, only disturbed by us gasping for breath.

“Is it over?” Sim asks.

Percy nods, still a bit in shock. “I think so.” Then his eyes land on me, and he practically trips over himself as he makes his way across the ship. He drops on his knees and pulls me in his arms.

“I thought I was never gonna see you again,” he whispers, voice choked by tears.

I melt into his embrace, even though it presses against my bruises. I don’t care—I’m falling apart, and I need someone to hold me together. I think Percy can tell, because he only hugs me tighter.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I never should’ve let you go in there. I never should’ve…”

I don’t say anything, just press my face to his chest, clinging to him.

He lets me stay like that for perhaps a full five minutes, which isn’t nearly enough. Then he finally pulls back. He gently removes my mask, wiping some smears from my face, touch lingering on my bruise. Profound sadness in those kind eyes.

“He knows.” My voice is hoarse and I sound like I might actually start to cry. “He knows. He’s always known.”

Percy presses his lips together, looking sadder than I’ve ever seen him. He sighs, and pulls me to him again.

“I’m so sorry, Monty.”


	16. Revelations

I can’t sleep. I can’t. I’m curled up on my side, facing the wall, watching the faint pulsing of the wires. It’s perfectly quiet in the base, only the occasional footsteps passing by in the hallway.

The things I’ve seen and heard today in the Mines keep haunting me. The defeat in the new arrivals’ postures. How utterly worn out all the workers looked, like shadows rather than people. The brokenness in Félix’s tone when he was talking to his soulmate, and—oh, God, Félix, I promised him I had a plan and I left him—the guard’s threats, my own stupidity, the bruise that’s still throbbing. The cold look in my father’s eyes when he scrutinized me. That dawning and thankfully cut-off realization that I was sure was going to be my death sentence.

He knows. The Empire commits horrors and they’ve always been at his order. No misunderstandings, no smokescreens, no tricks or illusions. He’s always known and everyone but me realized this. Everyone but me because I couldn’t get out of my own goddamn head.

I think about Félix, who talked about his soulmate with me, and about his sister, who stood up for me against the guard, even after she’d been hurt. I think of Helena, who’d been through God knows what there and still wanted to stay with her father. I left them all behind. Every single one of them. Just because I saw my father and fell apart—I was sure I could handle this mission, get out, help these people, but I broke down just being in the same room as him. Their lives were at stake and all I could think about was myself, about all the stupid things I’ve gotten up to and my father beating me for it. About the scoldings and the insults and the bruises throbbing for days after. All those things I thought I deserved, but that still terrified me.

All this time I thought — it’s my own fault. I should’ve been a better heir, should’ve gotten my head on straight and stopped mucking around and stopped embarrassing him. All this time thinking I deserved it — that he carried heavier burdens than most, and the least I could’ve done was not be an additional one. All this time thinking,  _well, he does have a very important job, he’s under a lot of pressure, it’s completely understandable he’s not his best self at home_ _—_ but all this time, he’s been just as bad there, too. And I realize that those two pieces — of a cruel Emperor and an abusive father — fit rather perfectly.

My shoulders pull up at the mere thought.  _God_ . Even just thinking it is terrifying. And then I’m thinking again of seeing him at the Mines today, about what he’d do when he figured out what I’ve been up to — what I’ve found out _–_

There’s shuffling behind me, two footsteps, and Percy slides into my bed, wrapping his arms around me. I start at the sudden touch, freezing up.

“You felt like you needed a hug,” he whispers. “Is… is this okay?”

And I’m not sure why that does it. I’m not sure why after everything that’s happened, everything I’ve been through, all it takes for me to start crying for the first time in years is a hug from my soulmate. But it does.

“Yeah,” I say, voice choked. “I really, really do.”

A sob tears from my throat, and then another, and my eyes start watering and then I’m crying so hard I’m shaking with it. Percy pulls me closer, all sweet concern, whispering comforting words in my ear and stroking my hair and pressing the occasional kiss to my temple. That only makes me cry more. I roll over, curling into him, clinging to his nightshirt as I sob into it. It’s ugly, and indecent, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. It’s years worth of it, and it’s years overdue.

We stay like that for a while, me sobbing my lungs out and Percy being there for me, the way he always has been. Through every shitty day and every mistake I’ve ever made and all the horrible things I’ve said to him—and now he’s here again.

I didn’t want to believe him.

I called him a liar.

I turned on him when he was just trying to look out for me.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, when I’ve calmed down enough to articulate words again. “I’ve been awful to you. I’m so, so sorry _–_ ”

He cuts me off before I can make myself cry again. “It’s all right. I’m sorry too. I said some things I really regret and I _–_ ”

“But you were _right_!” My voice cracks. I sniff. “You were right and I was wrong. I can’t believe I was so stupid.”

Percy raises his hand to my face and gently brushes his thumb along my jawline, with a smile that is equal parts pain and relief. “No, I was wrong too.”

I scoff, a mangled sound. “About what?”

“About you.” And his voice is so gentle that it nearly brings the tears back out. “And about… _everything_. I…” He runs a hand through his own hair, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. “I never should’ve taken you to the hospital ward. I never should’ve told you about my parents like that.”

“You just wanted me to understand,” I whisper.

“That’s no excuse. I went at it in a horrible way.”

“I’m not sure there was a good way to go at it.” I sniff again, wiping at my nose, and move to rest my head on his shoulder. His arm curls around me, hand coming to rest on my waist.

“Still. I’m really sorry.”

“Me too.”

We lay like that in silence for a while, only disturbed by the occasional teary hiccup escaping me.

“I just…” I sigh. I don’t even know. My thoughts are muddy with exhaustion, worn out by fear and slow as they accept the unacceptable. “I wish I’d done something.”

Percy turns his head toward me. “At the Mines?”

“No, I… I mean before. As the Prince.”

Percy sighs, rolling onto his side again. “It isn’t your fault, Monty. It never was. You didn’t know.”

“But that’s the _point_!” My voice spikes on the last word, and another sob escapes me. “I didn’t _know_. It was happening right under my nose and I just… never cared enough to look.”

“You had other things going on.” He starts running fingers through my hair again.

“Like what? Getting drunk and sleeping around?”

“No, I mean…” He bites his lip, not articulating it because we both know what he means. “I don’t think there was much you could’ve done.”

“Maybe,” I whisper.

Percy presses a kiss to my forehead. “Please don’t beat yourself up over this. Promise me?”

“Uh, no. You let me simmer in my guilt.” That makes him laugh, so I add on: “It’s what I deserve.”

I mean it as a joke, but Percy sobers up, that sadness rolling into his expression, like waves on a shore. He doesn’t say anything, though, just holds me closer.

  
  


When I wake up, I’m still in Percy’s arms, his drowsy breath in my ear. My face feels puffy and swollen, my nose clogged up, and I’m fairly certain nothing will be able to top this headache. I’m sore all over and the pillow presses against my bruise, but I don’t move.

I let all the events from yesterday dredge themselves up from my memory, soaking them up like a stain. The guard hitting me and Félix’s sister’s screams when they told her her brother was dead, and my father’s words and the expression on Helena’s face when we left her behind. God, I left them all behind. I even feel like I lost a part of myself there.

The first thing I want to do is go back and organize some giant heist to get every last person out of there. The second thing I want is a drink. The third is a shower, even though I showered last night.

I don’t have the energy for any of it.

I sigh, and curl closer to Percy. It’s strange how we’ve gone from literally fighting to this, but I’m too tired to question it. It feels natural, anyway. Lying here, fitting perfectly in his arms, it’s not hard to imagine why the universe would destine us to be together.

Percy stirs—a sharp intake of breath, muscles tensing, a fluttering of eyelids. A few lazy blinks. Then those sleepy eyes land on me, and my heart vaults. His mouth curls into a smile.

“Hey,” he says, voice gravelly. He extracts his arms from where they lie tangled around me, and does a rather dramatic stretch. When he relaxes, his arms come to rest around me again, as if that’s just the natural state of things. Maybe it could be.

“Hey,” I whisper.

He rubs his eye with one hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been dragged behind a ship going through hyperspace.”

That gets a chuckle out of him. “That’s fair, I suppose.” He hums. “You want to stay in bed today?”

That sounds divine. Though I’ve had my share of hook-ups, very few of them involved waking up together the next morning—and if they did, it was awkward, and embarrassing, and both of us wanted to get the other out of the door as quickly as possible. So I’ve never… never really woken up in someone’s arms before. Not with someone who made me feel safe and cared for. And now that I have… I don’t ever want to wake up in an empty bed again.

But it feels like pushing my luck. And, well… I have something more important to do.

“No,” I say. “I want to know what the Empire has done. All of it.”

Percy, who’d been dozing, opens his eyes again. His brow creases. “Monty, you…” He bites his lip. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I do.” I’ve made up my mind. “I’ve spent my entire life looking in the opposite direction. I can’t change that. But I can try to make up for.”

A number of emotions find their way into his expression—surprise, pity, love. He considers me for a long moment. Then he nods. “All right.”

  
  


Sim looks at me like I’ve lost my mind when Percy explains my request. We’re sitting in the computer room I use to contact Sinjon and Felicity; me, a miserable heap of human being in the chair, Percy behind me, and Sim giving us skeptic looks.

“I can’t just clear an afternoon because your boyfriend is having an identity crisis, Percy,” she says, when he’s done talking. “Why don’t you just tell him all those things if he so desperately wants to know?”

“You’ve got higher clearance than I do,” Percy says. “And you know more about all this.”

“Yes, but I’m _busy_.” There’s a soft chime, and a message pops up on Sim’s communicator. She frowns as she reads it.

“What is it?” Percy asks.

“My father wants to talk to me.” She makes the screen disappear and lowers her arm. “Actually, I can spare a few hours.”

And so the nightmare begins. I get a crash course through every war crime the Empire committed to get to power, every betrayal and empty promise, all the bloodshed and the greed and the inhumanities in claiming the galaxy for itself. I learn about the expansion, the wars, the hoarding of resources and wealth, the exploitation and extortion and impossibly high taxes, about its secret services and elite assassins and its propaganda. All the pain, all the death. What some of the rebels here have been through. Loss of limb and loved ones and home planets, all casualties on my father’s quest to power, more and more and more of it.

Halfway, I excuse myself to find the nearest bathroom and throw up.

When Sim finally wraps up, I feel like a carcass of myself. Percy’s watching me in concern, a comforting hand on my shoulder, and Sim looks… unsure. Like she doesn’t know what to think of me anymore.

“Are you all right?” Percy asks, when five minutes have passed and I still haven’t said a word. It all feels so far away. Even my voice sounds distant and foreign when I speak.

“I want to call my sister.”

After our calls became more frequent, Sinjon helped set up a line so I could call Felicity directly, because she was tired of visiting him every time I had something to say that I “deemed important”. I’ve asked Percy and Sim to leave—this is something I have to do alone, a conversation that has to be had between the two heirs of a monstrous Empire.

Felicity looks peeved when she finally answers. “I really have better things to do than listen to your sad little stories, Henry,” is the first thing she says.

I don’t reply right away, which must tip her off enough, as she frowns. “What’s the matter with you? Someone insult your dimples?”

“Felicity, we need to talk,” I say.

So I tell her. An abridged version of everything I’ve seen and heard since I got here. The events at the Mines, yesterday. That I saw Father. Everything he’s done.

She does not believe me. She accuses me of being brainwashed by the rebels, of being a liar and a traitor. We yell at each other over it. She insults me and calls me good for nothing and a liability and useless.

I know she doesn’t mean it. I don’t even get angry at her for it.

“Ask Sinjon to look into the Empire’s databases,” I say. “It’ll all be there.”

She hangs up on me.

  
  


I sit there, staring blankly ahead for several more minutes before Percy comes in again. I’ve got my back turned but I know it’s him. He lingers in the doorstep. “Monty?”

Monty. Monty the rebel whose face is scarred and whom the Empire hurt. Monty, whose soulmate’s name is Percy Newton and who lives at the Crown and Cleaver and who has rebel friends and who wants more than anything to bring the Empire down.

And then there’s Prince Henry Montague, heir to the Empire’s throne, meant to take over and carry on with its atrocities. Good-for-nothing Henry Montague, expelled from school, a disgrace to his father, who’s barely been sober in the past few years and who’s a stranger to his own family and who likes to sleep around and go to parties and get drunk, because he can’t stand the sight of himself and has wished he were dead more times than he could count.

Destined by birth to hate, destined by the universe to love.

They both feel like strangers to me, faces you’d vaguely recognize in a crowd and then spend the rest of the day wondering where you’d seen them before.

“Could you, uh.” My voice cracks. “Could you give me some time alone?”

Percy doesn’t respond right away. I think he feels sad but it’s hard to tell under the storm in my head, like trying to spot a firefly in front of a sun.

“All right,” he then says.

He leaves.

  
  


I’m not really sure what I’m doing here, wandering through the hallways by myself. I’m not going anywhere. I’m strolling through the mostly abandoned parts of the ship, not wanting to run into anyone. At one point I found a river running through the base and followed it until it disappeared behind the walls.

I want a drink. Even though I’ve been trying to ignore it, it’s been the main thing on my mind for the past few hours. More than anything, I want to forget everything I’ve learned today, everything I’ve learned over the past few days and weeks. I want to go back to my pointless ignorant unhappy life, distracting myself with frivolities while living fearfully in my father’s shadow. It was awful, obviously, but it’s everything I’ve ever known, and I’m not sure what to do with myself without that. Who I am without that.

It’s terrifying. I used to look at my future and see nothing because I’d assumed I’d die young. But now, I look at my future and I see… something. I have no idea what it is, and it scares me beyond words.

I’m not a hero. I can’t take down the Empire when just being in the same room as my father results in a nervous breakdown. I can’t help Percy get what he wants. I can’t be the person deserving of his love. I can’t make him happy. I can’t be good for him when I’m not even good for myself, when just wanting to be alive feels like the most arduous task some days.

I’ve been staring at the entrance of the hospital ward for several minutes before I realize where I am. I’m still standing there like an idiot when the nurse comes out, key in her hand and ready to lock things up for the night.

“Oh,” she says when she sees me. “Did you need anything?”

My complete lack of a response and blank looks must give her a hint about my current mental state, for she opens the door again and leads me inside. She sits me down on one of the beds and offers me a blanket and a glass of water, both of which I decline. She waits patiently as I try to get my words figured out.

“I, uh.” My voice is hoarse from not speaking for hours. “Percy said… I heard… I was told…” I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. I swallow. “I… I have a bit of an _–_ of an alcohol problem. I was wondering if I could get some help with that?”


	17. Masquerade

I spend the next two days in bed. I don’t really understand it. I just feel exhausted. When Jeanne comes to visit, Percy tells her I’ve got a cold, since I’ve got the watery eyes to prove for it thanks to all the random crying I’ve been doing. The nurse referred me to a therapist to help me through sobering up (and any other things weighing I might have on my mind, they’d added), and they said it was likely a combination of going through withdrawal and “a pretty rough depressive episode”.

Whatever that means.

Percy stays at my side through it all. He’s noticed I don’t really want to talk so we just quietly coexist. He brings me food and makes sure I take my detox meds and stay hydrated and occasionally presses a kiss to my forehead when he passes by. He plays me his violin a few times, and though I’ve never really had an interest in classical music, the sound is so calming that I can temporarily put my mind off everything. Percy still sleeps in my bed and it’s just as lovely as I always imagined it would be. In the morning I excuse myself to the bathroom and send Sinjon the code. I’ll have to contact him later, but I really don’t have the energy for it at the moment.

The second evening, we curl up together on Percy’s bed and have a private little movie night. Nothing special, nothing noteworthy. Just me and my soulmate spending some quiet time together.

The third day, Percy says he has to attend a meeting, and I decide to come along. It’s a handful of rebels gathered in an auditorium, Sim taking the stage again. We sit down with Jeanne and Esmee.

“Thank you for coming,” Sim says, and the crowd quiets down. “I’m afraid I’m here with some bad news.”

I let myself lean against Percy’s side, and he wraps an arm around me.

“Inside sources,” Sim says, eyes briefly lingering on me, “tell us they have strong reasons to believe the Empire is now in possession of a fully operational device that can harness the Heart’s energy.”

An uneasy murmur goes through the room.

“However, as far as we know, they do not have the Heart’s coordinates. This is only temporal reassurance, though. We have to prepare for the worst. That’s why I need volunteers for a mission to either steal or destroy the device.”

I sit up. This is the first I’m hearing of it. According to the look Percy exchanges with me, it’s the same for him.

“Do you know where it is?” he asks.

Sim nods. “In one week, the Empire is hosting a gala, where it will unveil a ‘ _new technological development_ ’ it has been working on, and discuss its potential for the Empire’s expanse. So, we strongly suspect…”

“It’s the device.” Percy leans back.

“Yes. We’re in luck as this is a semi-public event, not to mention a masked ball, so we should manage to get in a small group without too much trouble. There will be considerable security, as the Emperor and his family will be present, as will many notable guests. It will be dangerous, but it is of key importance for the rebels’ survival.” Sim lifts her chin. “So. Who’s with me?”

And, as history tends to repeat itself, I stand up. I’m not really sure when, but at one point, Percy must’ve taken my hand, because he’s still holding it. “I’m going,” I say.

Sim gives me a look I’ve gotten very familiar with over the past month: a look that implies I’ve lost my mind. But she can’t explain why in a room full of rebels, so she uneasily settles on, “I thought you were… ill.”

“I’m feeling better.”

I feel a light tug on my hand, and look down to meet Percy’s eyes. “Monty… are you sure about this?”

They want me to reconsider. They’re thinking I shouldn’t go—because my father will be there and he might recognize me or I might collapse from his mere presence—but I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. At the Mines, I fell apart; now, I’m handed a new chance to make things right.

“I’m the one who found the coordinates,” I say. “I want to see this through.”

Percy smiles sadly. He squeezes my hand and stands up as well. “Then I’m coming too.”

Sim sighs deeply, which goes unnoticed as more people volunteer. Jeanne and Esmee are next to stand up, then there’s Scipio, and some more people from the original Versailles mission. In the end, we’re a group of ten, Sim included. The people that won’t be participating are excused, and all of us are given a warning that this mission is of a very sensitive nature, so word of it better not spread.

We take a brief recess as Sim sets things up for the actual mission briefing, and everyone starts chatting among themselves again. Right when I think she’s about to start again, she walks up to where we’re sitting, and says, “You two. A word?”

  
  


“Do I _really_ have to point out why this is a bad idea?” Sim asks, as soon as the doors have fallen closed behind us. We’re standing in the hallway, the talking inside muffled. Percy has his arm loosely resting around my waist, our sides brushing. I’m not exactly sure how we took the leap from being startled by the slightest touch to public affection all at once. I think Percy’s still worried about me. Maybe he should be, maybe he shouldn’t—the point is, I’m not planning to take any steps backward relationship-wise any time soon.

Oh, my god. This is a  _relationship_ .

Percy’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Monty, if you say you can handle this, I promise I’m with you. But…”

But he isn’t sure.

“I can handle it,” I say lightly. “What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

Percy and Sim exchange a glance.

“Would you like the list alphabetized?” Sim asks.

Percy takes me by the shoulders and pulls me aside. “Your father is going to be there.”

“So what? He’s already not recognized me once. And I’ve still got all of you, don’t I?”

“Yes, but…” Percy bites his lip. “He might not recognize his son, but what if he recognizes the rebel that escaped the Mines?”

I… hadn’t thought of that. “I’ll be looking completely different,” I still argue. “Maybe I’ll dye my hair again. And, besides, I’m not planning on having a tête-à-tête. No one’s allowed to go anywhere near the royal family at these parties, trust me.”

Percy considers me for a long moment. “…If you’re sure,” he settles on.

“One hundred percent.” And I am. I so am. After everything, I’m finally getting a chance to make things right.

Percy looks over at Sim to verify. She rolls her eyes, shrugging. “Fine. But if I even  _suspect_ you’re in any way jeopardizing the mission, accidental or not, I’m sending you  _both_ home.”

“Deal.”

  
  


The next week goes by in a blur. Jeanne, Esmee, Percy and I question each other over the mission’s details over meals, picking out every last uncertainty and coming up with alternative plans for every possible thing that can go wrong. In secret, Percy and I have a few extra back-up plans in case what happened at the Mines repeats itself, though it’s less of a plan and more of a code word I can use when it gets too much, and we can make a swift exit.

We’re tailored ball attire, and I’m in a good mood about it. While sharing Percy’s clothes is something I can appreciate now that I’m unconflicted in my feelings for him, it’s nice to be wearing something that isn’t endlessly too big, not to mention something that’s actually stylish. I end up giving the seamsters probably too many directions, but if I’m to be appearing at a ball, I shall do so looking fantastic.

“We’re supposed to _not_ draw attention to ourselves, you know,” Percy says with a fond smile as I’m admiring myself in the mirror.

I pivot on my feet, smirking sweetly. “Oh, is there something catching your eye, darling?”

At that, Percy just rolls his eyes.

I teach him how to dance. It isn’t a necessary skill to possess on this mission, as there’s nothing suspicious about avoiding dancing altogether, but I mentioned it as a joke once and now we’re doing it.

We dug around through ancient storage rooms, and found an old-timey record player. A quick flip through a cardboard box of records and we found a waltz, so now I’ve got my hand on his waist and his is on my shoulder as we stumble through the steps and break down laughing so often we spend less time actually practicing and more time replacing the needle to start the music again.

It’s so utterly delightful and lovely and my heart feels so full of love for him I might burst with it.

Long after the record stopped playing, we’re still holding each other close and swaying, my head to his chest, listening to his heartbeat, that is perfectly synchronous with mine. And in this abandoned storage room, in the middle of the mess and with a view on the stars, I’m thinking that this—just this—is so much more than perfect.

  
  


The gala isn’t nearly as ostentatious as the anniversary celebration, but as I haven’t been to these kinds of parties in a month, it overwhelms me a little. To be truthful — there have been some fun evenings at the Crown and Cleaver, and those were far louder and more crowded, so I don’t really understand why this one in particular is making me so uncomfortable. Maybe it  _is_ the difference — the classical music and the aristocrats and all the servants running around, all of it perfectly tidy and void of emotion, really is something else than a loud, happy family of outcasts cheering on each other as they belt out karaoke songs.

Also, I’ve never made an awful lot of good memories at parties like these.

We enter one or two at a time, careful not to draw any attention to us. I’m still fixing Percy’s tie as we stand in line to be let in. We show our fake IDs and invitations to the doorman, and they let us pass without any trouble.

All right.

The first thing I look at is the thrones. Most are vacant—Mother’s, Father’s, and mine, of course—but Felicity is sitting on hers, slouching and reading a book, and she couldn’t appear less interested in everything going on if she tried. In spite of our fight, that makes me smile. She glances up, and we lock eyes briefly. I’m certain she’s recognized me, but she focuses on her book again.

I… have no idea how to interpret that.

At least she didn’t go to fetch security?

We spot the other rebels that are already present, briefly making eye contact, before moving to the side of the table with snacks. I snatch something and put it in my mouth. Oh, I really miss the food here.

“We’re inside,” Percy says casually.

Sim’s reply comes almost right away through the invisible ear pieces we’re all wearing. “ _Copy that. I’m leaving now._ ”

Sim is the last person of our little party to enter the gala. She’ll be here in a couple of minutes, and then it’s twenty more minutes of loitering and trying to look not-suspicious until my father makes his speech. I sigh, leaning back against the table.

“You alright?” Percy asks with a small smile.

“I’m at a party with my beloved, and both of us are looking amazing,” I reply. “Why would I not be?”

I’m not lying. I know I look good in my sky blue coat and my brand new ornate blue mask. Still, I don’t think I’m stealing the show tonight—I can barely take my eyes off Percy. I’ve never seen him in formal wear before and now that I have… I might have to start inventing occasions for him to wear it more often. Percy himself is feeling self conscious—he keeps tugging at his collar and fiddling the ties on his mask, to the point I have to drag his hands away and reassure him he looks wonderful.

Still, I’m dodging the question, and he knows it. He doesn’t press, though. Instead, he regards the room. “So, you grew up here?”

“Eh, this is just one of the ballrooms.” I shrug. “My rooms are several floors up. _Were_.”

Percy looks at me from his peripheral at my correction. I know what he’s thinking — even though I couldn’t possibly return home after everything I’ve learned, I’ve never outright confirmed it. But he just hums. “ _Rooms_ , hm?”

“Are you surprised? I’m a Prince.” Was. “I’m as spoiled as they come.”

He chuckles. “That is true.”

“Hey!”

“You said it yourself.” He turns to me, and suddenly his face is very close to mine. “However will you get by at the Crown and Cleaver?”

I raise an eyebrow, smirking in challenge. “You’ll just have to make it worth my suffering, then.” I lean in, pushing myself up on my toes, but then I spot something over his shoulder. My mood plummets. "Oh, you have  _got_ to be kidding me."

Percy, who already had his lips slightly parted and his eyes closed, blinks them open again, disturbed. "What is it?"

He follows my gaze, but obviously he doesn’t recognize him—the brown hair, the loud manner of speaking, the mocking grin as he talks to his peers.

“At the champagne fountain,” I say quietly. “Red suit.”

It's Richard  _fucking_ Peele.

“You… know him?” Percy asks, in confusion.

“Yes,” I sigh. “And so do you.”

He gives me a questioning look.

“So, uh.” I’m suddenly feeling rather awkward. “Remember, Christmas when we were thirteen? And… I kissed some other guy who got cold feet and blabbed about it to my father? And who I still had several hook-ups with after that?”

The way realization dawns on him is almost comical. He subtly nods at Richard. “That’s  _him_ ?”

I nod. “Richard Peele.”

Percy looks downright angry now. “I.  _Hate._ Richard Peele,” he whispers.

“As do I, darling.” I take his hand. “So let’s move elsewhere.”

He doesn’t budge, though, just keeps watching Richard. Then he asks, “Could you excuse me for a moment?”

And he walks over.

I’m staring after him in something that’s either dread or awe. He saunters to the champagne fountain, casually filling a glass, glancing over his shoulder.

“Excuse me? Sir?”

I start and turn. Beside me, a butler stands, holding a tray. I look around, but there’s no one near. Shit. Did our cover get blown so easily? “Uh, me?” I ask.

“Yes, sir. Her Highness Princess Felicity has requested I bring you this.” He offers me the tray, on which lays a single cream-colored napkin.

I frown at it. “A… napkin?”

The man nods, so, in order not to get too many stares, I simply take the object. The butler bows slightly, and leaves.

I try to catch Felicity’s eyes, if only to convey  _Have you lost your mind?_ , but she is still engrossed in her reading. I take another look at the napkin, flipping it inside out, and — there it is. A few sentences hastily scribbled in my sister’s handwriting.

_Father suspects the Crown and Cleaver might try to get at the device. Be careful._

And, on the flip side:  _I believe you._

I barely have the time to feel grateful for that — it’s interrupted by a very loud crash. I look up, just in time to watch the table the champagne fountain is placed on snap in half as Richard Peele falls face-first into it. The sizzling liquid forms a pool onto the floor, expanding as shocked party guests dart aside trying to avoid it, Richard sitting in the middle of it all and clenching a hand to his jaw. Percy’s kneeling at his side, apologizing profusely and helping him back on his feet. As soon as he’s up again, Richard shrugs him off brusquely.

“ _Watch where you’re going!_ ” he snaps, then wincing and pressing his hand harder to his cheek. He makes a funny face, frowning. “Wait.” Then he’s back on his knees, trying to shoo off the servants who were already in the process of cleaning up the mess. “Wait, I think I lost a tooth!”

Meanwhile, Percy has returned to my side, still holding a champagne glass, and looking pleased as punch. I’m gaping in equal parts horror and amazement. “You  _maniac_ .”

“Who, me?” He takes a sip from his glass. “I just accidentally ran into this guy I’ve never met before in my life. What’s intentionally malignant about that?” He glances aside, and starts. “Oh, my god, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” He puts his glass down on the table and gently leads me away.

“What, for drinking alcohol in my presence, and _not_ for maiming my ex?” I’m frowning, but I can’t suppress a grin.

“I didn’t _maim_ him _–_ ”

He’s cut off  when my ear piece creaks to life. “ _Percy David Newton_ ,” Sim’s strained voice comes, “ _what in the_ galaxy  _was that all about?_ ”

“Just an accident,” Percy lies, and I help make it convincing by instantly breaking down laughing.

Sim, however, does not see the humor in the situation. “ _Need I remind you two what’s at stake here?_ ”

At that, Percy sobers up. “Right. I’m sorry, Sim _._ ”

“ _Apologies won’t overthrow the Empire. Now, focus._ ”

Percy nods, then sighs, putting his hands in his pockets. “Fuck. I really wasn’t thinking, there,” he says to me. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

I regard him in fake-consideration, then I shrug with a smile. “Ah, well. I thought it was pretty hot, watching you get all worked up over my honor.”

Percy rolls his eyes. “You have honor now?”

I elbow him, making him laugh.

We share a comfortable moment of silence, watching a few pairs dance on the live orchestra’s music. Suddenly, Percy turns to me, and offers me a hand. “As we did practice for this…” He gives me a shy smile, head tipped to the side. “May I have this dance?”

I take his hand, grinning. “Absolutely you may.”

I let him lead me to the dance floor, right to the middle of it all. There, he places his hand on my waist, guiding mine to his shoulder. I quirk an eyebrow. “Oh, are you leading now? Avenging me has given you quite the confidence boost.”

“Do I need one just to dance with my soulmate?” He still has that sweet smile in place as we start to move on the music. It feels like a dream, and he’s looking so ridiculously enamored with me it might as well be. He glances around. “So, are there any more of your exes lurking about that I will be forced to meet?”

I scoff. “I wouldn’t call them  _exes_ , exactly.” I pause. “I haven’t really been in a…  _relationship_ , before…” I trail off, not being able to hold myself back before I briefly catch his eyes.  _Before this_ , I think.  _Whatever it is._

Percy hesitates. “Um,” he says. “Do you want to…?” He cuts himself off, then shakes his head with a smile. “This isn’t the time for it.”

My heart vaults recklessly at the direction I think this is headed. “Sure it is. We’ve still got some time to kill.” I briefly step in to brush his nose with mine, then step back out, perfectly in time with the music. “Spit it out.”

Percy’s flustered, a blush creeping from under the edges of his mask, and the sight is enough to make my knees weak. “All right.” He takes a deep breath. “I was just thinking… Where are we right now? Don’t dare to say  _at a masked ball_ ,” he quickly adds, and I snort. “I mean… relationship-wise. What steps do we want to take — if any — and where do we want to go with it?”

Every emotion I’ve felt today—from the nerves for this mission to the fear I might see my father again, to the sweet taste of spite when I saw Richard falling into that champagne fountain, to the relief that Felicity is on my side—all of it fades away in that simple moment, making space for how much I love him, and nothing else.

Simple as the stars.

“Well, I’m certainly not saying no to taking steps,” I say.

He smiles. “So… Do you want to do this? Be… together?”

“I think the universe made that call for us.”

Percy huffs. “I don’t care about what the universe wants. What do  _you_ want?”

“I want…” And though I’ve had nothing to drink, I must be a little delirious on this thing the poets hath called _lov_ _e_ , because, without my meaning to, my eyes flit down to his mouth. His lips curl into a smile, breath catching as he leans in.

It’s the sweetest kiss I’ve ever had. I’m not sure if kissing your soulmate always feels like this, or it’s just because I’ve never been this hopelessly in love with anyone before, but no other kiss compares. Even the one we shared after the karaoke night can barely compete. That one had been passionate, and frantic, and very, very drunk. This one is slow and steady, closemouthed and chaste, not so much desire for something more rather than feeling perfectly at peace with the way things are.

No lies, no secrets, no dilemma. Just me and the boy I love, sharing an intimate moment.

The universe itself seems to hum with it.

It’s odd, in a way, that I’m feeling so perfectly calm doing this at the center of an Empire event, knowing my father will show up in mere minutes. My stomach turns at that thought, but I let it go. There is nothing he can do about it. My father, in all of his flaws, is only a raging homophobe in private. While he certainly despises all things queer, it is no longer eighteenth century England—the times have moved forward, and so must he, if he wants to retain a sliver of respect from his people. None of this ever spared me a single hit, though. But right now—he doesn’t know it’s me. He can’t hurt me. I am not his son; I am a stranger at a ball, and he cannot punish me.

This is not only me embracing my feelings for beautiful Percy Newton.

This is me making a stand.

We pull away slowly. When I open my eyes again, his are still closed, blushing and blissful smile flirting with his lips, and I can’t help myself—the sight is so damn adorable I kiss him again. That makes him laugh, and finally, those beautiful eyes open and look at me with so much warmth and love. He puts his arms around my neck and presses me to him, and I don’t mind one bit.

“ _All right, lovebirds_ ,” Jeanne’s amused voice sounds in my ear. “ _Less eyes for each other and more eyes for the mission. There’s the Emperor._ ”

That starts me from my blissful haze. Reflexively, I pull back from Percy. Hot shame wells up in me, and I hate myself for it. Percy looks a bit surprised, but then he just gives me a sad smile. “Let’s go.”

The crowd has gathered near the throne area and breaks into a polite applause as I presume my father takes the stage. I don’t even look at him. I just skirt behind the crowd, toward the door, keeping my head down all the while. For once, I’m grateful for my height.

“Thank you all for coming.” And I flinch. Percy takes my hand. “There has been unrest in the Empire,” Father starts on his speech. “New Crown and Cleaver strikes. And my son is still missing, of course. People are afraid. But thanks to our most first-rate scientists, we now have something to strike back.”

We pass by the doormen and turn the corner. Every step I get further away from that room, I relax more. I take a deep breath.

The entry hall is fortunately abandoned. We meet up with the rest of the group to hand out the tasers Jeanne and Esmee smuggled in and divide the rooms that need checking for the device.

Percy and I take the second door on the left, quietly moving through a hallway and up some stairs, then down again, never far away enough that we can’t hear the faint sound of my father’s speech. Finally, we arrive outside the room. Percy hushes me when we realize there are two guards posted inside, even though I wasn’t talking.

_You take the one on the right, I take the one on the left_ , he says, putting the armored glove to conjure his shield in place.

I nod, clenching the taser in my hand until my knuckles whiten. Percy counts down from three, then we dart out from our hiding places. We’ve both zapped the guards before they’ve even turned around. Electricity crackles, and they go down without a fight. Percy quickly disables their guns. I’m distracted, looking around the room.

There’s no one else here. It’s forty feet square, one wall completely covered by a red curtain, as if we’re in a theat er . In the middle of the room, something absolutely  _huge_ stands. It’s longer and broader than it’s high, and covered in a white sheet. Its size vaguely reminds me of the empty support beams in Mateu Robles’ s lab.

“Is that it?” Percy asks, a little breathless.

I walk toward it. When I lift my hands, I realize they’re still trembling. I take the sheet, planning to dramatically pull it off, but as it turns out, very large sheets of fabric tend to be fairly heavy, so it takes both Percy and I quite some effort to remove it.

When it finally falls down at our feet, we’re a bit out of breath, so we take a moment to take in the device. It looks like a spaceship—a bit smaller than the Eleftheria, less thin and with more round shapes. In the front, there’s a spherical windshield, and in the back, some machinery that looks too extensive to be the engine.

Percy lifts a hand to his ear. “This is Newton. We found the device. Room 4-C-1.”

“ _I’m on my way_ ,” comes Sim’s reply. “ _Everyone else, stand-by._ ”

It takes her less than two minutes to reach us. She barely pauses, just instantly pulls the shrink ray from her pocket and starts charging it.

It took some serious negotiations with a fellow rebel faction, but they agreed to let us borrow it. Common goals and all. Technically it’s called some acronym which is in turn short for a very long scientific name, but it temporarily shrinks things, so I just call it a shrink ray. It’s a good solution to our problem, as long as we hurry—the object only stays small for about five minutes. No do-overs.

The device, that has to weigh a few tons at least, shrinks down until it is the size of a hand. Percy pockets it. “Okay, let’s get out of _–_ ”

The door falls closed.

My stomach drops. Sim runs over, pulling on the latch. Her expression turns grave. “It’s locked.”

There’s a rustling sound behind us. We turn.

The curtain has fallen. Behind it stands my father, accompanied by two dozen men that all have their weapons trained for us.

It was a goddamn trap.

Father starts clapping his hands, slowly and mockingly, as he walks toward us. Percy grabs my wrist and makes his shield appear. Sim pulls her marlinspike from her tattoo.

“Bravo,” Father says. “That was quite the performance.”

I take Percy’s hand and squeeze it.

“That was smart, I must admit.” He stops a few feet ahead of us, folding his arms behind his back. “Shrinking the device. If there’d be an attempt on it, I’d assumed you would try to destroy it. But you are stealing it. That implies you have a use for it.” His eyes land on me. “So Robles talked. Your little Mines heist was successful.”

A whimper escapes me. Percy pulls me closer to his side.

“Is this the part where you demand the coordinates, and if we don’t give them, you shoot us?” Sim asks dryly.

My father smiles humorlessly. “Oh, no. I’m going to shoot you regardless.”

“What are we waiting for, then?” Sim spreads her arms, coming to stand next to us. “Are you going to offer us tea first?”

I’m so glad she’s doing the bluffing, because I’m pretty sure if I weren’t clinging to Percy, I’d be on the floor by now. All this goddamn talk about this being my second chance to be brave—insisting I’d come along, promising I wouldn’t be a liability—and here I am, losing my fucking mind once again.

Father doesn’t answer right away. “No, we don’t need the coordinates,” he then says. “We’re having Robles recalculate them for us. Takes a little extra time, but very well.” He sighs. “No, I was going to ask for you to return the device. I don’t think it would get damaged in the crossfire, but still. Not to mention that taking it from your bloody corpses would unsettle my men, I’m afraid.”

_Three and a half more minutes_ , Percy says.

“We’re not giving it back,” Sim says. “And we have a shield. Your threat is worthless We can take the fire.”

My father smiles. “Can you?”

There’s a series of  _clanks!_ , and something the size of a marble is rolled to our feet. We all realize what’s going on a second before it’s set off — Percy makes his shield grow bigger, but we’re still thrown backwards by the blast. We stop when we hit the wall, and I’m surprised to find myself alive and still in one piece. Percy and Sim seem to share my confusion.

Then, Percy’s shield flickers, and disappears.

“I remember the warning tales of depending on technology,” Father says, pretending to be in thought. “Because it’s all so very easily disabled, and then what will you do?” He shakes his head. “Pitfalls of the youth.”

“EMP,” Sim mutters. I realize her mechanical arm is hanging limp.

“Correct, Miss Aldajah. That grand shield of yours won’t be operational again for another… ten, fifteen minutes? I’d say that gives us plenty of time to shoot you.” He takes a few steps back, so he’s in line with the guards. He lifts a hand. “Five.”

My heart stops. All the men charge their guns, unwavering as they point at us. I’m so scared I can’t move. Sim flies to the door, pulling on it. Percy’s trying to get his shield to work again, and I’m contributing by losing my mind panicking.

“How much longer?” I ask Percy, voice pitching.

“Two and a half minutes.” He’s still fiddling with the mechanics, hands too shaky to do anything useful.

“Four.”

Sim’s putting all her weight into it, kicking at the door. She spots the two unconscious guards and their disabled guns lying beside them, and drops on her knees as she tries to reassemble one, though she can’t work fast enough with just one arm.

We’ve got three concrete walls and two dozen armed men surrounding us. We’ve got nowhere to go. It’s shooting fish in a barrel.

“Three.”

Father sounds almost bored at it. It doesn’t fool me—the way he’s dragging it out implies a sadistic joy he’s getting out of shooting three unarmed people. Ridding the galaxy of three more rebels, not giving half a damn about their families—God, he doesn’t even realize _–_

“Two.”

“It’s not working!” Percy yells, and I’ve never seen him look so scared before. He scans the room, but there’s nothing we can even hide behind. He gives me a pained look. “I’m sorry, Monty.” He pulls me in his arms, turning his back to the guards, even though we both know it’s pointless—if one soulmate dies, so does the other, and Percy—beautiful, sweet, kind, darling Percy, the love of my life, that I’ve only known for a month but that I’ve actually known for a lifetime—he can’t protect me—we’re finally together and I know he loves me, but now we’re going to die at the hands of my father, my _–_

I stop.

My father.

“One.”

The weapons charge. I have one ace left up my sleeve, one last chance. Now or never. I push Percy aside and run toward my father, so he’s close enough to see.

Time to be brave.

I rip off my mask.

Father has already half lowered his hand, but he stops—frowning—then eyes widening as he recognizes me.

One moment passes.

Another.

There is a mixture of bewilderment, confusion and absolute disgust in his expression as he says, “Henry?”

The guns are still hot with held-back fire, so he turns to face the guards and puts up both hands. The fire dies out.

I breathe out in relief.

One crisis averted.

Another infinitely worse one at hand.

Father walks up to me, looking me up and down, and I’ve never seen him this distraught in his whole life. Even when he gets angry with me, there’s a precision to it — but right now, there’s a shadow of  _unhinged_ in his eyes as he for the first time ever struggles for words. “Lower your weapons,” he snaps at the guards without even looking around, and I flinch.

“Wh… What _–_ What is the _meaning_ of this?” he says, French accent already bleeding through, and I feel like I’m choking. I cast down my eyes, which I know is a mistake, for he snaps, “Look at me when I’m talking to you. And stand up _straight_.”

I obey reflexively—this month of being away hasn’t made a difference at all, and in that moment, I’m suddenly terrified I’ll never be free of him. Though that’s a less urgent concern, as, judging by the look in his eyes, he might murder me on the spot.

“Well?” he says, when I’ve taken too long to reply. My lip is quivering as I try to force words out and fail. Finally, I manage to open my mouth, but he cuts me off, “I don’t want to hear it. We will discuss this later.”

He starts walking away, then stops. “Don’t just  _stand there_ . Go wait in my office.”

“No.”

It’s come from behind me, and my nerves are so fragile right now that I jump a little. Father slowly turns around, and I’ve never seen him this angry before. “Excuse me?”

A few paces, and then a warm hand takes mine. “Monty’s not going anywhere with you,” Percy says.

My father scrutinizes him, gaze lingering on our joined hands, and in that second, all I want is to get Percy out, to take him away from here, from  _him_ , to protect the one good thing in my life. But I can’t move. I can’t speak.

“And who might you be?” Father asks.

And Percy steps in front of me, still holding my hand and making himself as tall as he can. He isn’t much shorter than Father, I realize. He regards the man back, and when he speaks, he sounds so brave I almost start to cry. “I’ll be the rebel that kidnapped your son,  _sir_ .”

He composes more hate in that single syllable than I’ve ever heard in his voice before. All I want to do is pull him back, tell him to just stop, to stop making him angry and to stop talking back and it’ll all be over quick, but I—I can’t—I can’t.

Percy squeezes my hand.  _Thirty seconds_ .

“We are walking out of here,” he says carefully, slowly starting to take steps back and guiding me with him. “Unharmed.”

“Or what, you’ll hurt my son?” Father spits.

“I would never hurt Monty,” Percy replies slowly. Then, to sign our death sentences, he adds, “That makes one of us.”

Fire lights up behind my father’s eyes. I think he might actually attack Percy, but instead he takes a few steps back, yelling at his men to shoot us. Percy takes something out of his pockets and  _throws_ it at my father. I realize what it is as it grows — the device we came here to steal, that we shrunk, and is now returning to its full size as it sears through the sky, toward my father and his men. I don’t see what happens next as Percy drags me toward the door. With Father’s attention elsewhere, Sim’s managed to reassemble a gun and she blasts the lock out of the door. It swings open with the impact.

“After them!” I still hear my father shout, but then we’re running down the stairs and through the hallways, and Sim is yelling to the others via her ear piece to reassemble at the ship. We come across a new pair of guards, that raise their weapons at us. Sim attacks them, shouting at us to keep moving, and I’m still frozen with shock so Percy drags me along.

We arrive in the empty entry hall and stop to catch our breath. Percy’s looking around the corner where we came from, feeling torn as we listen to the fight between Sim and the guards. There’s running footsteps approaching from a distance. “We have to leave!” I yell at Percy.

There’s a  _blip!_ behind us, then, Jeanne’s worried voice: "Percy! Monty! We heard the noise, is everything _–_ ?"

And that is where I make my fatal mistake.

I turn.

She stops dead in her tracks, almost tripping over herself when she sees my face — my  _face_ , uncovered, as I left my mask behind in the room with my father. Her jaw drops as she stares at me, shoulders still heaving from  exertion , the tip of her sword hovering an inch over the floor. “…Mon…ty?” she starts, voice thin with disbelief. “Mont _–_ Montague. Henry Montague.” Her eyes widen in realization, and she lifts her blade again, gesturing with one hand. “Percy, get away from him! It’s the Prince! He’s tricked us all!”

She runs toward me, weapon raised, and for a split second I think she might actually kill me. I stumble and trip over my own feet, hitting the floor painfully. I still try to crawl back, but she’s faster, and then she’s right there, because she thinks I’m a threat to Percy, her friend, because she thinks he has to be protected from me, and she’s willing to do what it takes to do that, for him.

And Percy—darling Percy—steps between us.

She slows to a stop, sword still over her head, looking confused. I scramble back to my feet. Jeanne’s looking between us, like she can’t get the situation figured out. Then, she adds things up.

I’ve never seen anything quite like the betrayal on her face when she does. A shock, going through her. It’s pure, raw and vulnerable, so  _hurt_ , and for a second I think she might fall apart on the spot, but then it’s passed — making space for controlled anger. “Step. Aside,” she hisses.

“No,” Percy says. “Let me explain _–_ ”

“What is there to _explain_?” she exclaims, and there it is again, that edge of desperation. “You’re conspiring with the _enemy_.”

“Jeanne, listen _–_ ”

There’s running footsteps in the hallway, and because Fortune is a heartless bitch, every other rebel on the mission enters the scene left.

They all stop when they see what’s going on — Jeanne, weapon raised, Percy between us, and me — _me_ . Prince Henry Montague, exposed at last.

“It’s the Prince!” Jeanne yells at them. “It’s been him all along. He’s a spy!”

I can’t bear the look of betrayal on all their faces. Esmee, Scipio, … _God_ . We’re all frozen in that moment, none of us knowing what to do, until Sim catches up with us. She’s out of breath and has a cut slashed across her cheek, and she’s clearly fully intending on heading straight for the door, but she is forced to stop as she realizes what’s going on.

“Sim!” Jeanne starts. Her tone makes me look back at her, and I could be imagining it, but I think there’s tears in her eyes. “Monty’s _–_ ”

“We don’t have time for this,” she cuts her off. And she is exceedingly correct, as I hear distant footsteps and shouts approaching. “Everyone to the ship. _Now_.”

Jeanne grabs me by the arm and pushes me ahead. I stumble. I feel the tip of her sword between my shoulder blades. “Walk,” she growls.

I can see Percy wants to do something, but I send him a warning glare.  _Don’t_ , I say. I put up my hands, and start walking.

We make it to the ship without getting caught. Percy sends me one pained look before he rushes over to the cockpit and starts the ship. Esmee barely looks me in the eye as she ties my wrists together, Jeanne’s blade still pointed at me. We take off, exit the atmosphere, and just like that, we’re headed back to home base.

And that is how I come to be a prisoner of the Crown and Cleaver once again.


	18. Imprisoned

The ride back home is characterized by a particularly distraught brand of silence. The other rebels keep looking at me in disbelief, as if every time they look away new doubt is installed in their hearts and they have to verify again because—it couldn’t possibly be _me_.

But it is. I am.

Jeanne is sitting across me, looking angry and wounded, sword in both hands in front of her like she’s a warrior’s statue. Esmee is beside her, but Jeanne has shrugged off any attempts at concern, so she’s kept to herself.

People keep glancing between me and Percy. They’re all thinking it. No one dares to say it out loud.

Percy himself is still in the pilot’s chair, even though we entered warp speed ages ago and he doesn’t have to stay there. I’m grateful, though—getting to feel his despair and panic is more than enough, I couldn’t bear to see the hurt look in his eyes as well.

No one says anything. There is nothing to be said.

  
  


The docks are well busy when I am led out of the ship—hands tied, maskless, and at sword’s point. Someone must’ve called ahead because not only am I awaited by an entire audience of shocked rebels, the Commodore himself stands in my pathway. I’ve never actually met him in person before, so to find that he’s several feet taller than I am and twice as broad is anything but encouraging.

Time to be brave, I think.

“Henry Montague,” is the first thing he says. “You were in our midst after all.”

I swallow.

“Not a trick I was expecting from your father, I must say. Sending his own son to spy? I thought you royals didn’t like to get your hands dirty.”

He’s angry. He’s really angry. And I am 5”4’ of unfiltered coward who’s still trembling from having faced his own father earlier. I’m afraid—deadly afraid—but if there’s one thing I learned here, it’s that bravery without fear doesn’t exist.

So I stand my ground, and meet his eyes with an expression that I hope both conveys respect and defiance.

“The Imperial Fleet showing up here was a nice touch. I’d say _so much trouble_ , but after a month of going undetected and undoubtedly passing on who knows how much information, I’m sure it’s been _worth it_.”

I bite my tongue.

“Do you still have anything to _say_ for yourself, boy? At least threaten to wipe us all out, in good old Empire fashion. At least mock us, throw it in our faces how much damage you’ve wrought.”

“No,” I say. “I won’t.”

That seems to make him even angrier. He doesn’t lash out, though, just takes a steadying breath. “I’m giving you a single chance to hand out any possible accomplices.”

Everyone’s looking at Percy. I know they are. They all know we’re soulmates, and it would take a cold-blooded maniac to deceive someone whose soul you share. But at the same time—this is _Percy Newton_ , whom they all love, who grew up here and who lost his parents and who has more reason to hate the Empire than most.

It doesn’t add up.

“I worked alone,” I say, and my confirmed malintent sends another ripple of shock through the room. “I infiltrated the Crown and Cleaver to spy and sabotage from the inside out, without any assistance at all, never mind from any rebels.”

 _Please_ , Percy’s voice says in my head. _Please don’t._

 _I’m already going down_ , I reply, and it’s strange how at peace I feel with it. _No point in taking you with me._

“But during my time here, I’ve come to see the error in the Empire’s ways.”

And everything I say just makes it worse. “Do you think this is some kind of _joke_?” Aldajah says, voice low and threatening.

“No, sir. When I first arrived here, I believed in the Empire’s innocence. I believed in my father’s propaganda. But since then I’ve seen and heard things that forced me to reconsider my beliefs. And I swear I am completely honest when I say this: I am now on your side.”

Aldajah’s jaw sets, and I recognize the nervous tic from Sim. “You Empire bastards really have no shame.”

“He’s speaking the truth.”

This really has to be the most spectacular thing that’s happened at the rebel base in forever, judging by the crowd’s reactions. Admittedly, I’m pretty shocked too when it is Sim who comes to my defense.

“He saved our lives tonight,” she says, as she comes to stand next to me. “We were about to be killed by the Emperor and his men, and Monty endangered himself to protect us.”

That makes it all sound so much more heroic than it was, but mentioning that would probably not do my case any good.

The Commodore _glares_ at his daughter, there’s no other word for it — he’s seething with rage, but he keeps it in check. He barely looks at her when he says through gritted teeth, “You organized a mission _without_ my authorization. If anyone would’ve gotten hurt today, it would’ve been on _you_ , Simmaa.”

Sim lowers her head.

The Commodore sighs deeply. “I have to contact the Emperor now and tell him we’ve unmasked his offspring. See what he’s willing to pay for your return.”

“He won’t,” I say, and suddenly I’m terrified I’m going home after all. “He won’t want me back. I betrayed him.”

“Save your lies.” He turns away, gesturing vaguely. “Throw him in a cell.”

Hundreds of rebels watch as I am led away, but I only see one face. He’s got his hands raised, one foot placed forward, as if he might rush after me. Unbearable sorrow in his eyes.

I give him a little sad smile. _It’s all right, darling_ , I say. Then again, to convince myself, _It’s all right._

  
  


I’m not sure how long I stay in that cell. They’ve taken away my communicator and there’s no daylight in here, so it’s hard to tell the time. I’m brought two meals a day—by _Scipio_ , of all people. He doesn’t say anything, just gives me that betrayed look, and that’s infinitely worse.

I can’t blame him. There’s no way for him to know I’m an expert at disappointing father figures.

Two days go by like that, give or take. I don’t hear from Percy, and I’m glad. I wouldn’t know what to say to him.

The second night I’m staring at the ceiling. I’m using my coat like a blanket, as I’m still in my ball attire. The faint night lights illuminate the edges over my cell bars, and I think of nothing at all.

There’s a shuffle in the hallway. I don’t really pay attention to it, as I’m far too preoccupied with my self pity. I’m forced to when the door opens and a breathless voice says, “Monty.”

I sit up. “Percy?”

We both fly to the bars of my cell, and just lacing his fingers with mine pulls me from my emotional void and it all comes crashing back in—the lingering panic now my father knows what I’ve done, the crushing guilt every time I think of that hurt look in Jeanne’s eyes, how much I missed, missed, _missed_ Percy. A sob escapes me.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to come sooner but _–_ ”

I pull his face toward me and kiss him.

It’s extremely awkward, with the bars pressing into our faces, but Percy just laughs when we break apart—a tearful laugh. “I missed you too,” he says hoarsely.

I have so many questions, but he hushes me and gets back on his feet. I watch him in confusion as he taps a few buttons on the screen beside my cell, and just like that, the door pops from its lock.

I’m still on the floor and staring at him as he pulls open the door and offers me a hand. “What are you doing?” I ask.

“Getting you out of here.” He glances over his shoulder. “Come on, we haven’t got much time.”

I take his hand and let him pull me to my feet. “Are they letting me out?”

“No.” He’s already halfway to the door when he realizes I’m not following. He turns.

“I’m trying to prove I’m on their side,” I say. “An escape attempt won’t help with that.”

A stab of panic goes through him. “No, Monty, they _–_ ” He runs a hand through his hair. “They’re never going to believe you, okay? We have to get out of here.”

I reach him in a few paces and take his arm to stop him. “How do you know? If they’d just listen _–_ ”

“The Commodore is already setting a deal with your father,” he cuts me off. He gives me a pained look. “I’m sorry, Monty. This is our only chance.”

  
  


The roof is as dark and quiet as ever when we arrive. We’ve managed to make our way through the base without running into anyone. When I pointed out the security cameras, Percy told me not to worry about them.

“They’ll know it’s been you,” I whispered.

He hadn’t looked back. “That won’t matter.”

A few yards ahead, the Eleftheria awaits, a silhouette against the night sky. We hurry toward it, and when we get closer, I realize there’s a half open duffel bag waiting at the bottom, some clothes peeking out. Percy tosses the straps over his shoulder and starts climbing.

I don’t follow.

“You’re running away,” I say.

“No, _we’re_ running away.”

“But… You can’t. It’s your family. Your whole life.”

Percy falters halfway up the ladder. He rests his forehead against the ship for a few moments, then he climbs back down. He drops the bag and takes me by the shoulders, and, God, he really is hurting like hell. “We don’t have a choice.”

“ _Yes_ , you do.” I shrug him off. I hate the pain that brings into his expression, but I have to make this clear. “We can go back inside. No one has to know.”

“I’m not letting them take you back to your father.”

I pull in a sharp breath, my argument dying away in my throat. I bite my lip. “Take me away somewhere and come back. No one has to know.”

“They aren’t stupid, Monty.” He sighs deeply. “They’ll know. And even if they don’t—I don’t want to be apart from you. I only just found you, I…” He huffs, taking a step closer and slowly raising his hands, giving me the chance to back away. I don’t. I let myself tip forward, until my head is against his chest and he’s wrapped his arms around me. “I want to be with you. So we can’t stay.”

I’m quiet for a long moment, relishing in the embrace and letting the situation sink in. While it’s obviously nothing compared to the pain Percy’s feeling at having to leave his lifelong home behind, I’m… mourning it too. This base is the first place in my life I’ve ever felt truly at home.

“All right,” I say then, lifting my head to meet his eyes. “Where will we go?”

He smiles. “Wherever we want.”

“That leaves too many options open. I couldn’t possibly decide.”

Percy chuckles. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Well, well. Isn’t this touching.”

We start, jumping back reflexively. Percy keeps a protective arm around my back as we look around for the person who spoke. I recognize that voice of nails on chalkboard and grinding metal. A ship appears as its invisibility shields are lifted. In front of it stands someone—he’s covered in darkness, little red dots lighting up in his eyes.

It’s the Duke.

Percy summons his shield and pulls me behind him. “How did you get here?”

The Duke walks toward us, slowly, and it’s hard to tell any emotion from his expression, but I’m getting the impression he’s in a good mood. A gun the size of his torso hangs lazily in his hand. “On my ship.”

“How did you get past the barrier?” Percy snaps.

“I used one of the Crown and Cleaver’s authorization codes,” he says lightly. “Quite sad that that’s the only security measure you’ve got for that. Such a powerful atmospheric shield, and all it takes to get past it is one series of numbers.”

“You’re lying. There’s no way you’ve got those codes.”

The Duke lifts his arms. He’s still holding the gun, although there’s no sign he’s about to use it. “I’m here, aren’t I?” When Percy doesn’t reply, he continues, “I’ve spent the afternoon studying this thing’s floor plans and security systems. Fascinating stuff. Though, I have to admit… The walls may be strong, but once you’re past that? You rebels haven’t got a thing to hide behind.”

“You’re bluffing,” Percy says. “The base defense’s are our best kept secret.”

It’s hard to tell with the shadow falling over his face, but I think the Duke is smiling. He takes something out of his pocket and holds it up so it catches the moonlight.

My heart stops.

It’s Sinjon’s hard drive.

“I’m here to escort you back home, Your Highness,” he says to me. “Excellent work on retrieving this intel. We know everything we need to know to destroy the rebels now. Your mission was a complete success. Your father will be proud.”

Time itself slows to a stop. My blood turns to ice in my veins. My hand goes to my left wrist and finds it empty—they’d taken away my communicator when they’d thrown me in the cell. Over twenty-four hours have passed. I didn’t send the code.

Sinjon passed on the information.

“What are you talking about?!” Percy says, voice rising.

“Would you like a demonstration?” he asks. He taps a few buttons on his arm, and suddenly, a dozen screens are projected into the sky. And it’s—it’s _all there_. Floor plans and defense systems and weapon catalogs and technological projects and files on every rebel—it’s all _there_.

“Where did you get that?” Percy asks, breathlessly.

The Duke smiles, and it’s horrifying. “Why don’t you ask… him?”

And he nods at me.

Percy turns to me slowly. He’s still holding my hand from when he pulled me behind him. I’m beyond mortified, and that seems to tell him enough. “…Monty?” he asks, voice thin with dread.

I take his hand in both of mine. “It was an accident!” I blurt out. If I can just explain to him _–_ “I didn’t mean to _–_ I was going to _–_ I planned _–_ ”

And Percy pulls his hand back.

“Monty,” he says slowly. “What did you do?”

“I… I…” I’m grasping at straws, and I can feel him pulling away, feeling that disbelief and confusion, the betrayal I’ve had to stomach from everyone else here, but that is nothing compared to seeing that look in Percy’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to!” I choke out.

His eyes are wide with horror. He can barely breathe with it, or maybe it’s me who’s about to suffocate. I really can’t tell.

“After… After everything…” Percy says, “…you’re still working with _them_?!”

“No, I’m not!” I’m getting desperate. I dart forward to take his hands again. “I swear I’m not, he’s lying, I _–_ ”

“Did you,” and I have never heard that much loathing in that sweet voice, only when he was talking to my father, “or did you not, purposefully send inside information of the Crown and Cleaver to the Empire?”

I can’t get any words out. “I… I… I didn’t mean _–_ ”

“ _Yes_ or _no_ , _Henry_ ,” Percy spits, and I want to curl up into a ball and cry.

My lip quivers. He’s looking so hurt and sad and angry, and I can’t bear it. I lower my head. “Yes.”

He pulls his hand back again, distraught and disgusted and feeling so, _so_ betrayed, he’s tearing up with it. He’s falling apart at the seams, and I want nothing more than to help him back together—the way he’s done for me so many times. Return the favor, repay his kindness, make me worthwhile.

But I’m the reason he’s hurting.

He’s gasping for breath, tears running down his cheeks, and I realize I’m crying too. I know it’s foolish, but I do it anyway. I speak up again, “Please let me explain _–_ ”

“ _What is there to explain_? The Empire is going to destroy us. _People are going to die because of this_ , Monty.” His voice spikes all over, sentence cut short by a sob. He turns away from me, taking a moment to collect himself and failing. “H-How long…” he starts. “When _–_ When did you…” He finally manages out the question he really wants to ask, “Was any of it even real?”

Us. He means us. The Crown and Cleaver is about to be wiped out but he still cares _–_ He still cares. He thinks I’ve been lying about my feelings, he thinks I’ve just been using him, and that is the worst possible thing because I could _never_ , I could never _–_

“Yes!” I’m really sobbing now, tears streaming down my face and wiping at my nose. “Percy, please. You have to believe me. I lo _–_ ”

“ _Don’t you dare say it!_ ” he cries, and I flinch. He repeats in whispers, “Don’t you dare say it.”

“I love you.”

That breaks him.

I’ve never before felt anything like the pain in him. Soulbonds are supposed to make it easier. Sharing one’s pain is supposed to make it bearable. Soulmates are meant to face life’s adversities together, to help and support each other, to make it through. That’s what they’re for—love to protect, love to heal, love to strengthen. Love to thrive.

But for that bond to be the reason for one's suffering…

“Well, if you’re done saying your goodbyes,” the Duke interrupts. He makes the screens disappear and pretends to check the time. “We really must get going.” Then he adds to Percy, tone measured, “Better go evacuate. Before we tear this place apart from the inside out.”

Percy looks at him for another moment, crying and shaking, his very soul fractured. Then he pulls himself together, expression going blank. He starts backing away.

“No,” I sob. “Percy. Percy, wait _–_ ”

He gives me one final look. Then he turns around and runs away, disappearing in the latch.

“Percy!” I cry after him. _Perc_ _–_

My wrists are grabbed from behind. I hear something click, and my hands pull together. The handcuffs light up, activating, and I stare at them as the Duke grabs me by the shoulder and drags me toward his ship. Inside, I’m thrown in yet another cell, and all I can think about while the lock clicks into place and the engines start up is that I’ve seen these odd patterns on these restraints somewhere before.

“What are these?” I ask, voice still shaky.

“Why don’t you ask your soulmate?” the Duke says absently, as he sits down behind the wheel and we take off.

That’s when it hits me.

Percy isn’t there. I can’t _feel him anymore._ All my life, he’s been _there_ . It’s hard to describe — I’ve always just been able to feel his presence, his heartbeat, his soul and now it’s — it’s _gone_. For a horrifying second I think he’s died and I just didn’t notice—but I couldn’t have.

I recognize the patterns. I’ve seen them before, in the scars on Jeanne’s wrists.

These are Link inhibitors.

I gasp, clutching a hand to my chest, searching for something that isn’t there. It feels like my heart itself has gone missing—like there’s a void in my chest where Percy should’ve been. I’m suddenly so cold, sinking to my feet and shaking. It’s like my lungs have forgotten how to breathe.

It’s very difficult to grasp suddenly missing something you’ve had every second of your life. It’s like missing a stair, losing a loved one, feeling phantom pains of a limb you used to have except it isn’t a limb, it’s a part of your very _soul_ . I’m sick with it, feeling like I might throw up. _Percy_ , I think, but he can’t hear me. “Percy,” I whisper. I sniff. “ _Percy._ ”

But for the first time in my life, Percy isn’t there.

Vaguely I register our take-off. Through the blur of tears and the ringing in my ears and the throbbing headache, I register that we enter warp speed. A voice creaks over the intercom. “ _Everyone’s in formation, sir. Do we attack the base?_ ”

“Negative. I’m reporting back to the Emperor first and we’ll get further orders then,” the Duke replies. “Tell everyone to stand-by.”

And so is it that I am headed back to my father, not a soul left who believes in me, not a soul left on my side. I have no idea what Father will do to me but I can’t even bother to care—all I’m thinking about is Percy, Percy, _Percy oh my god what’s going on I can’t feel him I can’t live like this_ and that look in his eyes. Sweet, beautiful, kind, funny, amazing Percy Newton, my soulmate (but now I don’t even have that anymore), the love of my life who thinks I betrayed him (which I did) and who hates me now. Darling Percy Newton, in whose arms I fell asleep, who made me feel safe, (who’s become my new home) and who was there for me when my whole world fell apart.

And now I’ve single-handedly destroyed his.


	19. Back Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Monty returns to his home, and, later, to his home.

The Palace is impossibly eerie, draped in the quiet of night. The glass windows refract the light of the moons, painting a yellow mosaic on the tile floor as our footsteps echo through the vast halls. Not even a ghost dwells in these rooms—here I am completely and utterly alone in the universe.

The Duke drags rather than guides me along, as my legs barely support my weight. I’m sweaty and sore-headed and sick, my heart aching with its every pulse, semi-conscious as I go through withdrawal of a soulbond broken and a home left behind and actual fucking alcoholism, barely even registering my surroundings, drowned own by the overwhelming missing, missing,  _missing_ .

I stumble up altogether too many stairs with the bravery of a coward led to the gallows, into the lion’s den, onto the scene of my every worst nightmare—and I can’t even be bothered to be afraid of it. All I’m thinking about is Percy, Percy, Percy—where is he? What’s he doing? Is the base under attack yet? Is he out there, fighting for his life?

Suddenly, my greatest fear is that Percy will die and I’ll just never know.

We arrive outside my father’s office. The Duke doesn’t knock, just barges right in and tosses me ahead. I trip and fall, landing on my knees, a pile of misery on the floor. I’m right back where I started: broken and hurt and alone, memorizing the patterns on my father’s carpet.

Except now I don’t even have my soulmate to comfort me.

“How many times have I told you to _knock_?” Father sneers, and at first I think it’s directed at me. Though, frankly, I haven’t forgotten in years.

The Duke ignores his remark. “I found your bastard. He was just about to run off with one of those rebels.” He takes a few steps until he’s three feet behind me. “I want my money.”

“You’ll get your money when I get my hands on that Heart.” I hear a desk chair spinning, then, two elbows placed on the desk. “In accordance with the deal we made.”

There’s something particularly foul in his tone as he talks to the bounty hunter, something of repulsion and hatred.

“About that,” the Duke says, and even though I’ve got my eyes still fixed on the floor, I can imagine so easily how my father looks up in annoyance, “I’ve changed my mind.”

“About what?”

“The money.” From my peripheral, I see the Duke taking his gun from his belt, casually starting to check the parts. “I want double.”

“We agreed fifty,” Father says through gritted teeth.

“Yes. Hence the part where I changed my mind.”

Father stares at the man for a long time. It’s so easy to imagine his mannerisms, those twitching hands every time he gets annoyed, that tight line of a mouth, the anger carefully kept behind his eyes. “The contract said fifty thousand,” he eventually says.

“The contract also said I was to retrieve that escape pod,” the Duke says loudly. “But since then, the order has changed to “keep tabs on the rebels”, “get those coordinates” and, most time consumingly, “get my son back”. All this extra effort deserves some compensation _–_ ”

“Your original mission was to retrieve those coordinates,” Father interrupts. “A mission which you _failed_.”

“Due to unforeseen complications. I wasn’t _told_ the entire Crown and Cleaver would be present in the Museum System. That is a mistake on your behalf. Now. The money.”

Father’s voice is low. “No. Your mission is not complete.”

“I’ll take fifty in advance and fifty after.”

“Remember who you’re _speaking to_.”

That makes him pause. “Oh, yes.” A few steps. “Who  _am_ I speaking to?”

I sneak a glance at the two men in front of me.

“If I remember correctly, I’m speaking to a _nobody_ from New Earth, who grew up in the court on nobility and nepotism, who got around on favors and lies, gambling away his parents’ money and sleeping with his friends’ wives and intendeds for spite alone. I’m talking to the _coward_ who ran away when he was forced to marry a woman he’d gotten pregnant, who never even _looked back_ when he heard New Earth was destroyed. I’m talking to a man who rose to power committing every war crime in the book, who had elections sabotaged and political leaders murdered, who has an elite group of assassins on his payroll led by yours truly, who rewrites the history books like entries on a high schooler’s fiction writing contest. I’m talking to a man who has the _nerve_ to pose as the pinnacle of decency in his illicit marriage with a flock of extramarital children and I am talking to a man whose life would be _ruined_ if any of this saw the light of day.” The Duke has both hands planted on the desk, staring down at my father who’s white-hot with rage. The bounty hunter has been talking louder and louder, but now he quiets down again. “You know I have proof of all of this and I can release it in the open whenever I damn please. So I’d say I’m talking to a man in whose best interest it is to _pay me my goddamn money_.”

The room reverberates with it. The two men are still staring each other down. Father is pale with anger, and I’ve  _never_ heard anyone talk to him like that. I’m honestly a little shaken by it.

A long, long moment passes. Then Father starts up his computer, pulling up a screen, not breaking eye contact all the while. “Fifty before and fifty after you’ve tested the device?” he says haughtily.

“That would do quite nicely,” The Duke replies.

Father makes the transaction, and the Duke retreats to the back of the room to verify on some screens he pulls out of his arm. I’m still sitting there, breathing shallowly, taking in everything I’ve just heard. I… can’t say I’m surprised. After everything I already knew my father had done, an abandoned bride and my siblings and I being born out of wedlock isn’t that big of a shock.

Still, someone making my father angry before he’d even gotten to me isn’t exactly ideal.

Father shuts down the computer, pushes his chair back and stands up. If I’d relaxed even the tiniest of amounts a moment ago, I’m right back on edge—he’s headed for me now, and I’ve never made him this furious before.

“See all the trouble you put me through, Henry?” he says, voice perfectly even again. He stops one foot in front of me. My shoulders pull up, my stomach squirming, and the best I can do is stare at his shoes. It’s the wrong thing to do—I know it is, but I don’t even know what the right thing to do is anymore. I don’t think I ever have. Everything I’ve ever done and been is just wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Get on your feet,” he hisses.

I do. Miserably, I do. I still can’t use my hands and my knees feel like they might give out the second I put any weight on them, but I manage.

I’m instantly knocked down again.

The pain builds slowly. Father stretches his hand, popping the knuckles, looking annoyed as if he really has better things to do than to give his disgrace of a son a beating. Looking peeved like this is my fault, like I’m leaving him no choice, like he has to.

I used to believe that.

Now I’m not sure.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” Father says, turning away again. “I really thought I’d seen it all.” Then, barely glancing back, “I said _on your feet_.”

I don’t want to. I’m already tearing up, a panicked voice inside me yelling to  _get out get out get out_ , making it difficult to breathe. I think that if I’m going to die anyway, I’m not going to waste any effort doing as he says. I will not face my execution standing and chin up — I will lie here on the floor, face hidden in my hands, and I will meet my end crying like a baby.

Quite without meaning to, I think about the rebels. I think about Jeanne attacking the Duke, in spite of everything the Empire has done to her, I think of Félix’s sister standing up for me against the guard, in spite of everything that already happened to her at the Mines, I think of Percy stepping between me and my father, in spite of what happened to his parents, to his friends, to me. And I think about how I fell apart at the Mines, and I think about how I fell apart at the ball, and I think of how I’m falling apart right now.

And all I can think is,  _God, why can’t I just be brave?_

“Every time I think you can’t be any more of a _disappointment_ , you prove me wrong.”

“But I _–_ ” My voice betrays me. I swallow. I sound like a child, tone thin and meek. “But I… I brought you information.”

“By sheer _accident_. Do you take me for some kind of fool? I had to have your accomplice arrested to even get it.”

…Accomplice? He can’t mean Felicity. But who _–_

My eyes widen.

_Sinjon._

“I spend eighteen years of my life raising you, and this is how you repay me? You’ve been a hopeless case from the _start_. I pay the best tutors to teach you, you drive them off. I send you to the most expensive boarding school out there, you get expelled. I put my precious time and money into trying to _make_ something of you, and you throw it all back in my _face_.”

I would certainly like to throw something in his face right now. I don’t know why — I don’t usually disagree when my father starts on his  _you’re a disappointment and a waste of space_ -speech, but right now, something inside me feels different. Something that’s been put there both by watching my friends be heroes and by watching them be vulnerable. Something put there both by seeing everything horrible the Empire has done to the galaxy and by seeing the galaxy’s surprising resilience, the rebels sticking together, united by their common enemy but in truth united by something  _more_ .

It’s a little spark, right in the place my bond with Percy is supposed to be. A little candlelight in a universe of darkness, weak and fragile, threatening to go out by the slightest gust of wind.

But it is there.

So without meaning to, I think,  _what do you know?_

I think,  _you didn’t_ raise me _. You let Mother and the servants do that. All you ever did was try to make me into something I’m not._

I think,  _you don’t know a damn thing about running an Empire. Why should your judgment of me be any better?_

I’m thinking that I hurt Percy and the rebels. That was my only mistake. So maybe I do deserve to suffer.

But not at his hand.

I get back up. I don’t know why. Something strange inside of me, and I’m not sure if it’s compliance or defiance. Maybe both, maybe neither. There is no bravery without fear but maybe a man already facing his death has nothing left to be afraid of.

So I stand.

It isn’t bravery.

But it’s something.

“Do you still have something to say for yourself?”

“You’re a monster,” I whisper.

That stops him. He glances back, then lets out a breath of laughter. “Am I now?”

I don’t reply.

He walks toward the big windows looking out over the Capital. A long moment passes during which I watch his expression reflected in the glass. “That’s just a matter of perspective.”

“ _Perspective?_ ” I can’t even remember the last time I talked back to my father. I’m not even sure it counts now, as my voice is as thin as thread and I sound like I’m about to start crying. But it’s as though every rebuttal I’ve been shoving away for years got un-stuck the same time my tears did. God, I’m really throwing it all out. Soon I’ll have nothing left inside me. “I _–_ I _know_ what you’ve done. Everything. They—All those innocent people—The Mines, the planets, the expansion, the wars—all of it.”

Father stares out of the window. He lets out a short sigh. “I hear you’ve taken an interest in the Empire,” he says. “About time.”

I flinch.

“So it was you at the Mines indeed.” It’s just a statement. “Didn’t like what you saw?”

“It was _inhumane_.”

I have no idea what’s happening. I’m talking back, and I haven’t yet been hit for it. Maybe Father is saving it up. Maybe this is just a test.

“You know nothing of _inhumanity_ ,” he says, tone quiet but hard. “You weren't there, during the anarchy after the Supernova. I got to see every atrocity first-hand, Henry. I personally got to witness the worst of absolutely every sentient species. _That_ was inhumane.”

From the back of the room, the Duke snorts. Father gives him a measured glare.

“It was chaos,” he continues. “Rogues fighting for power and money and resources, no ethics in sight. No rules, no law, no order. Everyone just stole and killed as they pleased.”

“Now people only steal and kill as _you_ please,” I mumble.

Father sends me a glance. “For God's sake, Henry, if you're going to be frank, at least speak up.”

And by the stars, have I got no idea where I get the courage. Maybe some of Percy's was left behind when our bond got interrupted. “You aren't any better than them,” I articulate. I manage to look at him as I say it, but quickly look away when he makes eye contact.

“It may seem that way to you. But people aren't massacring each other in the streets anymore, are they? Our people prosper. I didn't accomplish this without sacrifices. You'd understand that if you had even a scrap of potential in you.”

“They weren't your sacrifices to make,” I whisper.

Father shrugs lightly. “Perhaps not. But their purpose remains the same. Every day the galaxy becomes a better place. I fought tooth and nail for that.”

“A better place for _who_?”

“Those who matter.”

_“_ _Those who_ _–_ Who decides who  _matters_ ?”

Father doesn't reply.

“What about the people whose planets you take? The soldiers who fight your wars? The people forced to work until they drop dead, just because they were born with stardust in their hearts? Don't _they_ matter?”

“Oh, please. Don’t tell me you _care_ about those pathetic Linked.” He pauses. “Though I suppose you have good reason to.”

My blood turns to ice.

He walks back to his desk, types some things into his computer and pulls up a few screens. I’m  _mortified_ to recognize the mirrored picture on one of them.

“Percy. David. Newton.” He stresses every word individually, like he’s testing the sound of it. It makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. _No. Please, no. Just stay away from Percy._ “Am I correct?”

I press my lips together, miserably staring ahead.

“I remember David Newton,” my father goes on. “Great pilot. Lots of potential. Had a promising career ahead of him.” His mouth pulls into a tight line. “Until he deserted.”

“He’s dead.”

“Yes, I know. It’s all in these convenient files you got me.”

I bow my head.

“I’d say good riddance, but it’s always a waste of skills.” Father sighs theatrically. “Tell me, Henry. Is this _Percy_ of yours good at anything?”

He’s figured it out. He knows I’m not afraid for myself anymore. So he finds his material elsewhere.

I refuse to speak.

“Oh, come on. You must have something to say about him. Something doting and adoring. Something _moony_. That’s how you talk about the people you love. That’s what you call it, isn’t it? _Love_.”

He spits it out, as if the word is the foulest thing he’s ever tasted. As if it is something that can be squashed under foot.

He can’t. Not this part of me. God knows he’s tried.

“Soul mates,” he says, the word making the corners of his mouth tug down like something sour. "I've never understood it. How something so meaningless could warrant a waste of potent stardust. Something so… unimportant. But perhaps you disagree? As to you it was enough to betray your own family and conspire with the _enemy_ , isn’t that right, _Monty_.”

That’s almost enough to set me off—just to take that name and make sure he never says it again. _Give it back!_ I want to shout. _That doesn’t belong to you!_ _It belongs to me and Percy. It belongs to a life I built_ without you, _and I won’t have you poisoning it like you’ve poisoned everything else._

But I stay silent.

Father’s starting to get fed up with my lack of response. He turns to me swiftly. “Well?” he sneers. “Still don’t have anything to say?”

I stare at one of the feet of his desk. “No,” I whisper.

He walks closer, bending down so we’re at eye level. “What was that?”

I shake my head.

“Look, this is a very nice family reunion and all,” the Duke says loudly from behind us, “but I haven't got all day.”

Father looks at him, peeved. “Very well.” His eyes land on me again. “Let me make something very clear, Henry. The Duke is going to test the star-harnessing device. You will call your  _Percy Newton_ and demand he come deliver the coordinates of the Heart. As this is of course a very dangerous mission, accidents do happen, and are permitted in our quest to get this device operational. So when I hear the news of your tragic passing at the hand of the Crown and Cleaver — who had you kidnapped, after all — I will have no choice but to demonstrate my new weapon of mass destruction by erasing the rebel base from existence."

My head snaps up.  _“_ _What?!_ No, no, you can’t _–_ ”

“Can't I?” Father's returned to his desk, gesturing at the Duke. He slowly turns, silhouetted by the rising sun. “You're the one who said I'm a monster, Henry. I'd hate for you to die without having ever gotten anything right.”

The Duke grabs me by the arm and drags me back toward the door. “No,” I say. “No, wait, you can’t _–_ _You_ leave the rebels alone, you have to _–_ no _–_ wait _–_ _l_ _isten_ _–_ ”

I’m fighting back, harder than I ever have in my life, just to get out of his grip, but it’s too strong. I’m crying again, kicking and screaming and just trying to  _do_ something, but I can’t, so I settle for not making it easy for my captors. The Duke seems to be getting tired of my struggling, though, for he stops, sighs, and presses a button on his arm. My handcuffs light up, and the next second an incredible jolt of electricity goes through my nervous system. For a moment I see stars, and I’m convinced my brain has short-circuited, then the light dies out and I feel all my strength draining from me. My ears are ringing, my breathing loud, and I can only watch through half blacked-out vision as my entire body goes limp. The Duke grabs a handful of the back of my shirt and drags me along.

We're already halfway out of the door, when my father's voice sounds again. “Oh, one more thing.” He's already focusing on his paperwork again. He barely looks up. “Kill the rebel first.”

  
  


I’m still half-unconscious as I’m once again tossed into the Duke’s ship. He doesn’t take off right away, just stands over me as I try and fail to sit up.

“You’re going to call your rebel friend,” he says. “You’re going to tell him he has to meet us on the Wasteland Moon of Erea, Equus System, quadrant 223e, and that he’s going to bring the Heart’s coordinates.”

“No,” I whimper. “You’re just going to kill him. I won’t _–_ ”

“I can just shoot you right now to kill you both and be done with it.” A clicking noise in my handcuffs, and they unlock. The Duke puts his gun to my head. “The decision is yours.”

I don’t even dare to look up. I just nod, shoulders pulled up. He lowers the weapon and heads over to the cockpit, closing the cell door behind me.

I take a few steadying breaths as the ship’s engines start. I push myself up on my elbows, and my head instantly starts throbbing. I let out a whine. The heavy metal of the cuffs still rests around my wrists, but they’ve opened. I can take them off.

I have to call Percy. I have to call Percy after I’ve betrayed him, after I’ve endangered everything and everyone he loves, though I don’t dare to count myself under the latter category anymore. I have to tell him he has to hand over the rebels’ only chance of winning the war, their last hope, and I have to tell him he’s almost certainly going to die during this.

Will he respond? Will he hate me?

(Is he still alive?)

I’m terrified to find out the answers to any of those questions. But I have to.

I have to.

Not knowing what to expect, I shove the handcuffs of my wrists. They hit the floor with a series of  _clanks!_

I don’t get the anger I expected, as our bond slowly returns to me, like water filling a canyon. I don’t get the hatred, or the pain, or the betrayal. I don’t get the hurt silence. Instead, I’m immediately overwhelmed with non-stop talking.

_–_ _never should’ve left you I can’t believe I did I should’ve listened to you I should’ve believed you I’m so sorry I’m so sorry I put you in danger and if you get hurt it’s my fault oh my god Monty please be all right I’m coming for you I’m going to find you I promise_ _–_

_Percy?_

He instantly stops. I can practically feel him hitting the brakes.  _Monty?!_

_Yeah._ I… feel like I should say more. My head is slow, and my thoughts feel like shadows of shadows.

_Monty! Oh, my god. Are you all right? No, you’re not, of course you’re not, you’re hurting oh my god what happened I’m so sorry where are you? I’m coming to get you right now_ _–_

I take it all in for a while, bewildered. I’m so tired nothing makes sense anymore.  _But…_

Percy waits for me to continue, but I don’t.  _But what?_

I bite my lip. I’m so damn close to crying  _again_ , I’m so tired and afraid and everything hurts and I just want to hide away and never come out.  _But you…_ I rest my forehead against the cold metal of the ship floor.  _Don’t you hate me?_ Before he can reply, I cut him off again. My vision blurs with tears.  _You should hate me. I sent out all that information and now the Empire has it and they’re going to destroy the Crown and Cleaver, just because I couldn’t give a fuck about anyone but myself, because I was stupid and drunk and useless_ _–_

_Monty_ _–_

_That’s really all there is to me._ A sob escapes me.  _I’m good for nothing. I don’t belong anywhere. All I’ve ever been is a burden, a burden to my family and to my father and he deserved it but you_ _—_ _you didn’t. All you’ve ever done is looked after me and this is what I do in return. You gave me a home and a family and a purpose and I just took it and threw it back in your face because I’m a selfish bastard and a coward and good for nothing and all I ever do is hurt people_ _–_

_Monty, no, please_ _–_

I’m really sobbing now.  _I mean, look at us! God knows you’ve suffered. But what did you do? You took that pain and you decided to fight back. You decided to dedicate your life to fighting the Empire and protecting others and trying to make sure what happened to you doesn’t happen to anyone else_ _—_ _and what do I do? I run away from my problems. I get drunk and sleep around and lash out against everyone, and I make you comfort me because you’ve had the bad luck of being born with a Link to me. I’ve been weighing you down for so long, Percy. You deserve so much better than that, and I_ _—_ _God, Percy, if I could kill myself without taking you with me I would’ve done it long ago_ _–_

_Monty. Stop. Please, don’t say that_ _–_

_I’m so sorry, Percy_ , I cry.  _I’m so sorry that it had to be me. My voice in your head and my pain in your heart. I’m so sorry it had to be me you got stuck with instead of someone who could love you the way you deserve._

_Monty_ , Percy says, and his voice is so gentle and loving that it breaks me. _Darling._ _There is no one in the universe I’d rather be stuck with than with you._

I can’t reply. I’m just sobbing.

_Listen to me. You’re not a burden, and you never have been. We all make mistakes, I…_ He scoffs.  _I don’t have to do missions. It’s no obligation. I just have a giant fucking guilt complex about my parents’ deaths that makes me reckless sometimes. I have some really pathetic abandonment issues and I know I rely too much on being there for you to prove my worth as a person. And I have such a terrible grudge against the Empire I really thought anyone even remotely associated with it had to be a horrible person. Even if that person turned out to be my soulmate._

I’ve stopped crying. The occasional hiccup escapes me as the tears dry on my cheeks.  _I… didn’t know._ I pause.  _I should’ve. If I wasn’t so self-centered_ _–_

_Stop that. You didn’t know because I purposefully kept it to myself. I’m shit at asking for anyone’s help._ He laughs, tearfully.  _So you’re not the only disaster in this relationship. And you’ve never been a burden, Monty. You’ve had a rough go, and you didn’t know how to cope with all that. If I was able to be any help, even if it was just being Linked to you so you didn’t hurt yourself, then that is my greatest achievement. I don’t have to be there for you. I’m choosing to be there for you, because that’s what you do for the people you love._

I don’t know what to say.  _I don’t understand. I… I passed on all that information, the Crown and Cleaver_ _–_

_–_ _is going to be all right, providing we can take care of the device. Sinjon’s managed to delete everything of the Empire’s servers, and the rebels can take a regular attack._

_Wait. Sinjon? I thought he was arrested?_

_Yes, he was, but he’s okay. He and Felicity are with me. They explained everything._

_Explained?_ What was there to explain?  _I still fucked up. I got all that intel in the Empire’s hands_ _–_

_That was pretty fucking stupid, I’ll admit it._

That makes me laugh, a mangled sound of tears and snot.

_But I should’ve believed you when you said it was an accident. Or a poorly informed decision at worst. You almost ended the Crown and Cleaver, which was a pretty bad thing to do, but on the other hand, I did kidnap you, so…_ I can feel his smile.  _Does that make us even?_

I don’t think it does. Even if we’re really halfway out of the woods, I’ll still never forgive myself for letting it come this far.  _Being kidnapped by you was the best thing that ever happened to me._

He laughs.  _Yeah. For me too._

We fall quiet for a while. Then Percy sighs and asks,  _Monty, what happened and where are you?_ He hesitates, scared to ask the next question.  _Who hurt you?_

_Well. Father certainly did._

I feel the stab of guilt going through him.

_And also the Duke, sort of, if you count ‘dragging someone down a few hundred stairs by their collar because you’re too lazy to pick them up’ as a method of purposeful pain inducement._

_Oh my god._

_Listen, Percy, I…_ I swallow, looking at the stars blurring outside the window. I don’t know how much time I have left before we arrive.  _The Duke is setting up a trap. He only took off my inhibitors so I could tell you to meet up and bring the Heart’s coordinates. He’s going to test it and then kill us both. Then Father is going to use my death as an excuse to attack the rebel base._

Percy doesn’t reply right away.  _I never should’ve let him take you. I’m so sorry. I should’ve believed you._

_It’s all right_ , I say, and it is. Everything hurts and me and the boy I love will most likely die today, but a weary peace falls over me. We’re in the eye of the storm.  _You didn’t have much reason to._

_I’m coming for you, and I’m getting us both out of there alive. I promise._

I don’t reply. I just nod, temple resting against the floor.

_Where are you right now?_

_Hyperspace. The Duke wants to meet up on the Wasteland Moon of Erea in the Equus System, quadrant 223e._

_I’ll be there._

I sigh with a tired smile.  _Can’t talk you out of it, can I?_

_Nope._

I chuckle. The sound hurts my ribs and I wince. I can almost feel Percy’s urge to reach out, but he can’t. We both know that.

_Hang in there, darling_ , he says.  _I’m coming for you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> onto the finale! only 2-3 chapters left (depending on whether i divide the last one in two or not) and then it'll be over! i am not ready!
> 
> anyway, before chapter 20 goes up, i'll be posting a little side fic that covers what percy has been up to during the events of this chapter, so keep an eye out for that!!
> 
> also, while you're here, please check out this a m a z i n g fanart that i am still completely losing my mind over: https://yv-sketches.tumblr.com/post/627785843171573760/not-odd-at-all-they-just-realised-they-couldnt (it's so good aaaaaaaaaa)
> 
> thank you so so so much for sticking around and reading my funky giant space epic, it really means the world to me. i'm very excited to finish it and i hope the resolution is satisfactory!  
> hope you're all having the best day <3
> 
> EDIT: here's the fic!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/26375929


	20. The Heart

I don’t know how long we’ve been waiting, standing on that barren space rock. It’s freezing cold and there’s only just enough oxygen in the atmosphere that your skin doesn’t disintegrate the second you step out of your ship. I can’t even hug myself, as I’ve got the inhibitors on again (so that Percy and I won’t be able to scheme) so I settle for pulling up my shoulders and shivering.

There’s a flash above us, and the Eleftheria drops out of hyperspace. I almost faint in relief. It’s ridiculous, as I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted Percy to show up, but now that he’s here… God, I’m relieved. I’m scared and tired and I… just don’t want to be alone anymore.

The ship lands, and the air displacement almost knocks me off my feet—though I have to admit I’m not feeling particularly steady. Hope fills up the endless depths desperation has carved into my heart, building all away until the latch on the ship’s roof opens, and an all too familiar mop of unruly black hair pokes out.

I damn near cry at the sight.

Percy climbs down the ladder. Dust stirs as he lands on the barren ground, twenty yards away from us. He pulls his jacket close against the cold, turns _–_

We lock eyes. He’s looking tired and so afraid, but when we make eye contact, he smiles, relief shining in his eyes. A sob escapes me.

“Did you bring the coordinates?” the Duke calls.

Percy refuses to look at him, just keeps holding my gaze instead. His hand goes into his pocket and then he shows it—that cursed little box we found at Versailles.

The day after our return from the Mines, Sim questioned Dante about the song. It turned out to be an absolutely ancient melody called the  _Vanitas Vanitatum_ . A recording of this tune played on the crystallophone was the key we needed to unlock the box. As we didn’t want people to find out about it, we ran the decryption software on the Eleftheria’s board computer. The results came somewhere last week, but as we had no idea what to do with them at this point, we simply hid them away.

But here they are.

“Hand them over,” the Duke says.

“Let Monty go.”

The Duke laughs. “You’ve got no leverage at all, kid. Meanwhile all I need to do…” He takes out his gun and places the barrel to the back of my skull. I flinch. “…is pull this trigger, and your friend’s dead. You both are, if I take off those inhibitors first.”

Percy stares him down for a long time, lips pressed together and jaw set, but eventually he caves. He tosses the box toward us. It lands three feet before me.

“Pick it up,” the Duke says.

I do, trembling like mad, that barrel following me all the way. The second I’ve stood up, the box is ripped from my hand.

“Your shield,” the bounty hunter says to Percy. “Take it off and leave it here.”

Percy’s eyes are burning with rage, but he does as he’s told. Calmly, he summons the shield, then presses a button in his palm and it detaches from his arm, the same way it did when he gave it to me at Versailles. He carefully places it on the ground.

There’s a red beam of light over my head, and a grid of light scans Percy up and down, before disappearing a second later. “You’ve got something else in that pocket dimension,” the Duke says. “What is it?”

“It’s only a fiddle.”

The man behind me hums.

“Let Monty go,” Percy tries again, a bit more desperate this time. “You’ve got what you need.”

“Not yet. I won’t know if this is a scam until we arrive at that Heart.” He pockets the box. “So we’re going there first. Fancy a trip, Mr. Newton?”

  
  


The cell door clicks in its lock behind us. Neither of us moves while the Duke heads back to the ship’s front and lets himself fall down into the pilot’s chair. I turn to Percy, ready to offer some apology, but I’m cut off when he throws his arms around me.

“Oh my god, Monty,” he says into my neck, voice muffled. “I’ve been worried sick over you.”

I melt into his embrace, and, goddammit, I’m crying again. I can’t hug him back because my hands are still tied together, so I just slump against him. My legs give out under me and we sink down to the floor together, Percy holding me like I’m the only thing in the universe that matters.

“Please don’t ever leave me again,” I whisper, words blotched by sobs.

It’s pathetic. It’s stupid. Through some miracle of fortune, Percy has to some degree forgiven me, and here I am, doing everything I promised I wouldn’t anymore. But Percy just laughs tearfully. “You’ll be damn lucky if I ever let you out of my sight again.”

I laugh and cry into his shoulder.

Machines have started whirring in the cockpit. The Duke presses a few buttons, and a screen pops up, showing a man in Imperial Fleet outfitting, facing the camera.

“Take the device to the coordinates I’m sending you,” the Duke says.

“ _Yes, sir._ ”

Some more keys are tapped, and the screen disappears again. The ship’s engines come to life, and we take off. A minute later we’ve entered warp speed.

Percy untangles himself from me to take my face in his hands. He looks at me with so much sweet concern, face inches from mine, and I can’t help but smile. His thumb lingers on the brand new bruise on my cheek, so much sorrow in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Our noses touch. I lean in until his lips brush mine and we’re sharing our breath. He presses a short kiss to my mouth, gentle and shy. I kiss him back—it’s messy and tearful but sincere, a million apologies in a single kiss, so happy and relieved and in that single moment, I decide I want to spend the rest of my life with him.

And just like that, I am home.

When we finally break apart, we’re still shaky and crying but smiling. Percy brushes my hair aside from where it’s stuck to my face, wiping away my tears with his thumb, and his smile is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. He takes my hands in his and does something to the handcuffs, causing them to snap apart. They’re still locked around my wrists, but at least I can move my hands freely now.

“Can’t you, uh…” I’m a little taken aback by how wobbly my voice sounds. “Can’t you take them off all the way?”

Percy shakes his head. “Sorry.”

I bite my lip in disappointment. “It’s all right,” I whisper. “It’s just that I… I, uh… I can’t feel your heartbeat anymore.”

Percy looks at me, surprised and a little sad. He takes my right hand and places it to his chest, palm flat. I can feel the faint thumping under my fingertips.

He smiles. “It’s right here,” he says.

The ship rattles, and I almost pitch face first into Percy’s chest but he catches me. When I’ve recovered, I see we’ve left warp speed. This ship really is rickety. We’ll be lucky if we make it to that Heart in one piece.

The ship lands and Percy and I are both led outside at gunpoint. We’re on some kind of asteroid, bustling with activity as Empire officials prepare the star harnessing device for take-off. A temporal atmosphere has been set up. We get some confused looks as we’re led across, but no one interferes with the Duke’s business.

For some reason it hadn’t hit me yet that the device is, in fact, a ship, until I see its doors open, people checking the cockpit. I suppose that makes sense, as you’ve got to get it to the star in the first place. Still, I’m not sure how much faith I have in this thing—the list of possible ways we could die today extends and extends.

We are made to enter the ship and the Duke is about to follow when someone stops him. “Sir,” a woman in imperial uniform calls. “The coordinates you sent ahead, they _–_ ”

“Is the Heart there or not?” the Duke snaps.

“…Yes, sir, there’s definitely something there. We can’t properly determine what it is, as it overloads all out measuring equipment, but _–_ ”

“Then it’s the Heart.” He steps into the ship.

“Yes, likely so, but I have to warn you…” She trails off.

The Duke turns around. “ _What?!_ ”

“We’ve never seen anything quite like this,” the woman continues. “Survival cannot be guaranteed.”

Oh, great, another way we could die: destroyed by a star.

“Can’t it?” the Duke says haughtily. He does another attempt at slamming the door, but the woman interrupts again.

“One more thing, sir. We’d like to request permission to evacuate.”

“Evacuate?”

“That thing’s—whatever it is—gravitational pull is too strong. We’ve already moved over a hundred astronomical units since we set up here.”

The Duke considers this. “Fine,” he then says, and this time he succeeds at closing the door before any more questions are posed.

Percy and I are standing near the windshield—as there isn’t much space to stand at all. The bounty hunter looks between us with a frown, weapon half raised, then he points it at Percy. “You. You know how to fly a ship, don’t you?”

Percy nods, wide-eyed and squeezing my hand.

The Duke takes the back of the pilot’s chair and turns it, seat toward him. “Then  _fly_ .”

Percy doesn’t comply right away. He glares back, afraid but defiant. The Duke loses his patience. His gun strays from Percy to me.

I swallow.

Percy sends the man one final murderous look, then sits down. His hands hover over the controls. I don’t know much about spaceships, but I do know this dashboard looks wildly different from the Eleftheria’s. Still, Percy seems to know what he’s doing. A few buttons pushed and levers pulled, and the ship’s engines come alive with a surprisingly quiet hum.

Everything about this technology feels off. Like it’s something that shouldn’t be in our hands, a part of something bigger.

We lift off. Once we’ve exited the atmosphere, Percy asks, “Where to?”

The Duke pulls up a screen displaying a map. In the middle of it, there’s a dot, blinking blue.

Percy nods, and with that, we’re off.

The trip is longer than I expected, even going at the speed we are. This thing doesn’t seem to be built for warpspeed, but it advances quickly. For a while, we’re in open space, then, something odd appears on our horizon. I can’t tell what it is until we enter it.

It’s a solar system—solar system being a very broad term, as there’s no star in sight. Its edges are clouded by thin-spun nebulae, obscuring our view. We exit this belt, and everything turns dark.

It’s like there isn’t a star left in the entire galaxy. Everywhere I look there’s inky blackness—like there’s something here absorbing light itself; a dormant monster, ever hungry, ever devouring. There’s not a sound to be heard. Percy turns on the headlights, but they don’t make much of a difference. The only thing they do is alarm us too late when we’re near an obstacle. Percy can’t dodge in time so it just knocks against us, though it luckily doesn’t seem to make much of an impact. This ship is sturdy.

More and more obstacles come onto our path. It’s eerie—they’re silhouettes in the dark, unspeaking and headed in the same general direction as we are. Some are the size of a hand. Some are the size of moons. Once, a planet passes by us.

It takes me a while to realize. Some things here are natural—rocks and worlds formed by the universe at its birth—but others are artificial. It’s horrifying. Thousands of spaceships and satellites pass us by, all abandoned and in various states of decay. A handful of times I think I see the vague shape of a person behind filthy glass, but they never move.

We’re in the universe’s graveyard.

Percy guides us through the maze. It’s hard to tell, but I have a feeling we’re speeding up. At one point, the clutter clears up a bit. There’s a single dwarf planet blocking our vision ahead, but it’s knocked aside when it collides with a moon. Finally, we see where we’re headed.

My jaw drops.

It’s a black hole. I’ve seen pictures of black holes before, and I know the rebels said this Heart would be one, but this is beyond  _anything_ I could ever have imagined. Taking up our entire view up ahead, there’s a circle of absolutely  _nothing_ , of pitch black emptiness framed by a bright blue light, fluctuating like a dream.

In front of us, there’s an orb that I guess must be a star, as it’s emitting light, albeit faintly. It’s either far away or not very big, and regardless, it’s headed straight for the singularity. It’s hard to tell distance against the inky blackness, so I’m caught off guard when it’s suddenly  _swallowed_ _—_ I can’t think of a better word for it. It’s like the darkness itself reaches out and drags the star inside, a fight it is powerless to win. As it’s pulled in, the star releases one final beam of light out into the universe, a last beacon, begging for help.

Then it’s disappeared without a trace.

“Behold,” the Duke says lightly. “The Heart of the Universe.”

We have arrived at the beast’s maw.

“You’re mad,” Percy says, sounding horrified. “We’re already doomed.”

“Let’s hope your rebel friend did his math properly then, shall we?” His gun, that had been hanging loosely at my side, is placed at the back of my skull again. “ _Get us in there._ ”

Percy locks eyes with me. He’s looking as terrified as I’m feeling. He gives me a look that I think is meant as an apology.

Then we set course straight for the black hole.

It takes us still an eternity to actually reach it. Even with the singularity pulling us toward it, faster and faster, it takes forever. In the end I’ve seen so many things get devoured before us, as we’re dragged toward its jaws, unable to stop it. It’s all we can see now — nothing ahead but  _nothing_ , the deepest darkness I’ve ever seen in my life.

It’s the scariest part — waiting, waiting,  _waiting_ , knowing it’s going to take you but not knowing when, and every second you wait, it’s closer and there’s nothing you can do.

The ship starts trembling. Very lightly at first, so one could still think they’re imagining it—then it gets worse. The whole thing rattles, shaking like mad, to the point I’m tossed against the console and the Duke is thrown off his feet. There’s a horrible noise like metal being crunched and ripped to shreds, deafeningly loud—Percy grabs me and pulls me into a hug—and I’m convinced that this is it, this is how we die _–_

And just like that, it’s over.

Silence is the first thing I notice. I’ve got my face in the crook of Percy’s neck, his hand in my hair, and I think we’re both holding out breath. But the world-ending shaking and sounds of a moment ago are gone.

Is death truly this swift?

I lift my head and look around. We’re still in the ship, and the Duke is getting back on his feet. I turn my gaze outside, expecting the darkness we’ve had in view for the past hour—and am completely blinded.

It isn’t darkness. It isn’t the black hole. It’s like we’re some where entirely else — a brand new galaxy, filled with nebulae in every color imaginable and unimaginable, bright stars shining all around. It’s huge. It’s endless. It’s…  _magnificent_ .

“Are we… Is this… _inside_ the Heart?” Percy asks breathlessly.

“We could be dead,” I offer.

He huffs.

The Duke does not stop to admire the view. He forces open the door—as the ship has, in fact, taken some damage—and steps out. Percy and I untangle ourselves from each other and follow.

At first I’m not sure we actually  _can_ step outside. There doesn’t seem to be anything resembling a floor — just more stardust clouds beneath our feet. I carefully poke a foot outside, holding onto Percy in case I fall — but there’s a solid surface under me, though I can’t see it.

It’s even more incredible without a layer of glass in between. It’s like we’re walking through colorful mist — I stretch out a hand and move it through the air, and it snatches onto something. Thin strands of blue…  _energy_ , it’s the only word I can think of. It follows my movements, faintly tangible, but not enough for me to hold on to it. It dissipates between my fingers, like smoke.

“This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” Percy whispers.

There’s a noise behind us. The Duke has climbed back in the ship, one door still open, and he’s pressing some buttons.  I’m however distracted pretty quickly by what’s  _behind_ the ship — we really must be inside the black hole, because its entrance is right here: a massive black circle bisecting this universe. It’s a horizon — here, we could fall off the edge of the world itself.

The machinery at the back of the ship starts whirring, spinning slowly at first and then speeding up, until the lines on the sides blur. I watch in awe as the air behind it gets distorted, like it would in the heat, then the blue material in the air is sucked inside. The ship lights up with it.

It takes a while, but then the machinery dies down, spinning slower until it stops.

“So this is it,” Percy says quietly. “This is how they harness the energy.”

The device is glowing, humming with power, and I’m suddenly terrified of this getting in my father’s hands. The intel may have been deleted, but if he has this… the rebel base won’t stand a chance. “We can’t let him take it,” I whisper.

“I know,” Percy says.

“Well,” the Duke announces. “That’s that. I really must get going now.”

“You’re going to leave us here to die?” My voice spikes on the last word.

The bounty hunter considers me. Then he jumps out of the ship, that cannon of a gun still in his hand, and walks toward us. “You’re right,” he says. “My orders are to dispose of you. Who knows how long you can still live in this place?” He lifts his weapon, vaguely in my direction. “Better make sure.”

“Wait!” Percy exclaims. He’s taken a few steps, so he’s half in front of me, one arm shielding me. “Don’t you need a pilot to take you back?”

“I know how to fly a ship.” The Duke takes a few steps toward us. He’s too close, and it’s impossible for him to miss. “Still, if you insist. But that would make Mr. Montague _dead weight_.”

Percy properly steps in front of me now. I grab the back of his jacket. “Percy, please,” I whimper.

He ignores me. “I’m not going back without Monty.”

“I don’t need _either of you_ , what’s so hard to understand about that?” His tone rises in exasperation, and I flinch. “All you two have ever been is _in my way_. I’m fixing that. Permanently.”

He cocks the gun, barrel just a few inches from Percy’s forehead. I want to pull him away, to protect him, but I’m scared that if either of us move the Duke might pull the trigger out of reflex.

The bounty hunter and Percy keep eye contact, both of them frozen as statues. There’s something calculating in the Duke’s eyes. He turns his head away, resting his chin in his hand, feigning thought. “Though I suppose I should show a little gratitude. Without your involvement, we’d never have gotten all that inside information. I guess a thank you is in place.” He smiles maliciously.

Great, he’s dragging it out.

“You’re welcome,” Percy says. “Though I’ve got some bad news about that.”

He narrows his eyes, moment of gloating interrupted. I can see him gauging, guessing if Percy’s actually saying something important or just making it up to save our skins. His doubt wins out. “What are you talking about?”

“The intel. It’s gone.” Percy shrugs. “I broke into the Palace earlier today and deleted it from the imperial servers. Straight from the Emperor’s personal computer.”

The Duke glares at him, grimace distorting his features. “Nice try.”

“It’s the truth. Check the board computers.”

“You’re lying.”

And Percy, brilliant bastard that he is, smirks. “Am I?”

Or perhaps not that brilliant, as we’ve now only succeeded at making him angry. “You little _–_ ” He raises his weapon, and I  _know_ he’s going to shoot him, so I pull Percy out of the way. There’s an absolutely fantastic blast, and the whole world fractures, shattering like a broken window. I stumble on my feet, hand going up to my head just to shield my ears from the noise — but something’s not right, because one side of my head is warm and damp.

Huh.

I didn’t even realize I’d been falling until I hit the ground. I see Percy’s horrified expression above me. He sinks down, putting a hand to my cheek. He’s saying something but I can’t hear him. My vision must be blurry, because the stars around us are trembling, mist slowly starting to swirl.

The sound crashes back in, albeit oddly — when the Duke speaks again, it sounds like he’s talking from the bottom of a well. “Pathetic,” he spats. He lifts his gun again, this time pointed at Percy and I can’t — that’s my  _soulmate_ , I’ll keep him safe at  all costs— I want to protect him but the whole world is spinning and I can’t — I can’t move _–_

There’s a flash of blue energy near the barrel. The Duke pulls a pained expression, then drops the gun with a cry — the object, however, does not fall; it remains suspended mid-air, the blue energy engulfing it until it spats apart. The Duke takes a step back, wide-eyed, already reaching for another weapon on his belt, but little blue spots of energy appear all over him. It’s like he’s being eaten alive, judging by his screams of pain. He stumbles, spots us, and  _leaps_ for us — disintegrating hand outstretched, reaching for me _–_

There’s a white light in my peripheral, and Percy  _whacks_ him in the head with his violin case.

He falls aside, completely covered in blue light. He’s gone before he hits the ground.

Percy grabs my arms and hauls me to my feet, shouting things I can’t hear and starts dragging me back toward the ship. That’s when I realize I didn’t just  _imagine_ the world spinning. The galaxies around us are swirling, faster and faster, tearing themselves apart, ripping the fabric of reality to shreds. Everywhere I look, stars explode, the stardust forming tornadoes around us and threatening to knock us over.

Percy’s still dragging me along, which is why it confuses me when I suddenly fall. Percy’s surprised too—he stops to stare at me, then at his hands _–_

He gasps, almost tripping over himself. I’m gaping too. The arm he’d been holding onto me with—it’s disintegrating as well. Blue sparks detach themselves from him, drifting off, carried by the storm around us. We lock eyes and, judging by his expression, what he sees must be even worse than himself ceasing to exist. I look down _–_

 _–_ and find that I’m disintegrating as well.

I’m distracted from watching my own demise when Percy grabs my shoulder and drags me along. We’re both falling apart, collateral damage in this black hole collapsing in on itself, but we stumble toward the ship.

“We are not dying here,” Percy hisses in my uninjured ear. It’s a plea, a wish, a decision he’s made. “You hear me? We are _not_ dying here.”

And that—that changes something. The blue stardust that we’re made from, that’s being reclaimed by the star it’s from—it turns golden. Atoms we’ve lost return to us, completing us, bringing us back together—even though we are already complete, because we are together.

The storm still pulls at us from all sides, trying to tear us apart and healing us at the same time, and it’s such a magnificent madness that I’m convinced it’s all in my head.

We trip over ourselves falling into the ship. Percy climbs back to his feet, pulling the door closed with great effort, shutting out what I’m sure is reality collapsing on itself. He drops into the pilot’s chair and starts the ship, taking off, sending the ship toward the black vastness we came out of. The ship is rattled from all sides, sailing on the unruly tides of an imploding star, but we’re headed out regardless.

Percy abandons the wheel and drops on his knees beside me, taking my face in his hands. “Monty,” he says, shaking me lightly. I didn’t realize I’d been dozing off until he makes me snap out of it. “ _Monty_ .”

I open my eyes, and I’m instantly glad I did. Percy’s face is right above mine, and he’s  _so_ beautiful, even though he looks sad. He’s crying and still glowing from the stardust, and he looks so terrified and all I want to do is comfort him. Tell him it’s going to be all right. But it takes so much effort to move.

“Monty, please. Just hold on. I’ll get help, I’ll get us out of there, we’re going to be _–_ ” His words dissolve into sobs.

I’m distracted by the sky above him. Millions of galaxies in the most beautiful colors are swirling, their stars torn to shreds, falling,  _falling_ down.

That’s when it hits me. I almost laugh at how much sense it makes.

It’s raining stars.

“Odd weather,” I mumble. “I saw the stars fall out of the sky this morning.”

Percy chokes on a sob in surprise. He smiles, tears streaming down his face, hitting my cheeks, so utterly lovely and heartbroken and I’m overwhelmed by how much I love him. “Not odd at all,” he whispers, voice breaking on every word. “They just realized they couldn’t outshine you.”

I let my eyes slide shut. It’s all right. I may die here but Percy’s at my side, and he’s going to get out of here, and he’s going back home, and it’s going to be all right.

“Monty. _Monty_. Keep your eyes open—come on, darling, look at me. Please.”

I don’t want to. I’m tired, I’m bleeding out, and I just want to fade away in peace. But the great love of my life is requesting me to open my eyes, so I have no choice. And as I do, I realize this is the only good way to go—looking in those beautiful eyes, with those freckles splattered under them—a perfect mirror of the sky full of stars above us. My Percy. My darling. My soulmate.

And in that moment, I understand Links and soulbonds in a way I never have before. Why this Heart sent out stardust all over the universe, connecting people who might’ve never met without this bond. Not blue wisps of smoke or rocks mined from asteroids,  _this_ is the purest form of it: entwining destinies, colliding lives, creating  _potential_ _—_ the potential for people to heal and help and grow together, for a relationship to be more than the sum of its parts. Not completion but addition, a chance, a gift, something as pure and powerful as the birth of a star. And I understand this Heart — I understand why it Linked so many people and things and places; so that they could aid each other to be better, to be  _more_ _—_ so that one day someone could put this tired Heart to rest.

And we have. The stardust in our hearts brought us home—here, and to each other.

That’s really all it is, I realize, as I keep my eyes on Percy while everything turns dark. Our love for each other.

Stardust.


	21. Hospital Visits

I wake up to a white ceiling.

I frown, trying to recognize it. My thoughts are sluggish, and trying to make sense of them is like trying to wade through mud. Slowly, the world turns into focus, sound returning, though it’s still distant.

_God_ , my head hurts. I want to raise a hand to it but I realize it’s stuck — something’s holding it back. A hand. I turn my head.

I’m in a hospital bed, and on a chair at my side, Percy sits, arms folded on the edge of the bed, head resting on top of it, my hand tangled somewhere between. His shoulders rise and fall with every breath.

I don’t want to wake him up, but I do want my hand back, so I carefully try to pull it away. Without success — he pulls in a deep breath, tensing up, then he lifts his head. He looks a mess — hair sticking to one side, eyes small from sleep loss, but far,  _far_ more noticeably _–_

“Monty,” he says breathlessly. He pulls his chair closer, taking my hand in both of his. “You’re _–_ Are you _–_ How are you feeling?”

How  _I’m_ feeling seems a bit irrelevant. I point at him, gaping. “You’re  _glowing_ .”

And not in the metaphorical sense. On his hands, his neck and his face, his veins light up with gold, faintly pulsing with his heartbeat. Even his eyes have a soft golden glow to them.

Percy laughs bashfully. “A little souvenir from the Heart. You’ve got it too, you know.”

“I do?” I look at my hands, and he’s right. It doesn’t stand out as much as it does against his dark skin, but my veins emit a faint golden light as well. “I… Huh.”

“It’s been getting less,” Percy says. “When I first got back to the Eleftheria, Felicity and Sinjon said they could barely see us. We’re, uh, in quarantine, sort of.” He shrugs, nodding at the second bed beside me. “People have been in and out of here, though, so I don’t think it’s very effective.”

“We’re… huh.” I follow the lines up my arms with my eyes. Everything is just kind of… happening. “What is it?”

“They’re not sure. They’ve taken some blood samples from the both of us but all they can tell is that it’s just… Linked stuff. Stardust.”

_Stardust_ . That makes all the memories flood back — the Duke, the Heart, the storm. My _–_

My ear.

My hand flies up to the side of my head, and I find it bandaged. Percy gives me a sad smile. “Yeah, you really scared me there. I thought you were going to bleed out.”

“Is… Is it going to be okay?”

I know it isn’t. All the sounds are weird.

He bites his lip and swallows. “Uh. Your ear… no. It’s, uh… it’s gone.”

“It’s _what?!_ ”

“After the Duke’s shot, it was pretty… mangled. Beyond saving. They took it clean off here. Your sister helped.” He looks pained—he’s feeling horrible. “I… I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have angered him. I shouldn’t have… I…”

“He was going to shoot us both.” I’m trying to be light about it, but my voice is thin. “You had to do something. If you hadn’t, we might not have made it out at all.”

He smiles painfully, a tear rolling down his face. “Why’d you have to pull me out of the way, you idiot?” he whispers.

“I don’t know, Percy. Why’d you keep stepping in front of me?”

He sighs, an exasperated sound, but he smiles through it.

We both know why.

“So is it…?” He gestures at my ear. “Your… Your hearing. They said it could, uh…”

I hesitate. With one hand, I close up my left ear. With the other, I snap my fingers beside my missing one.

And… nothing. There’s nothing there.

Percy’s watching me, his eyebrows knit. “Is it gone?”

My throat’s feeling a bit wobbly, so I just nod.

Percy takes my hand and presses a kiss to it. “I’m so, so sorry,” he whispers.

“Quit apologizing already. If I hadn’t sent out that goddamn intel, we wouldn’t be in this mess. We both screwed up, all right? Let’s stick to that.” I run my thumb over his knuckles, trying to anchor myself in this new turn my life has taken. Half-deaf, goddammit.

Wait.

“Percy.” The alarm in my voice startles him. “Percy. If I’ve lost half of my hearing, then you _–_ you must have _–_ You’re a _musician_ _–_ ”

He realizes what I mean. He shakes his head. “No, no, don’t worry, I’m all right. You were wearing inhibitors when you got shot, so the injury didn’t translate the way it normally would have. I… lost a tiny bit of hearing, according to the tests they did, but it’s barely noteworthy.”

I sigh in relief. “Thank God.”

“They’ll probably be able to fit you a hearing aid soon. It’ll, uh, it’ll help. It… You won’t… I know it won’t _fix_ anything, and they—they said there could be scarring—and I _–_ ” He bites his lip, trying not to cry, but he can’t hold it back. He sniffs, hugging my hand to him. His voice breaks. “By the stars, Monty, I could’ve lost you back there.”

“I could’ve lost you too, you know. You’re not special.”

He laughs, sound turning into a sob.

I hesitate. I want to comfort him, but with everything that’s happened — I’m not sure where we are, being  _we_ . Sure, we’d kissed when we were reunited and we lived through a near-death experience together, but back in the metaphorical daylight? I’m… not sure.

Percy and I start talking at the same time.

“Do you want to _–_?”

“Can I _–_?”

We’re both pointing at the space in bed beside me. We laugh and I shuffle aside, pulling up the sheet and putting it over him as he settles next to me. He wraps me in a hug and I mellow completely. I know I don’t have a lot of experience with hugs, but still, in that moment I decide Percy’s hugs are my absolute favorite. He wraps himself around me and holds me so tight, and I feel so safe I’m convinced nothing can ever hurt me again.

I hope that feeling never goes away, no matter how many times I hug him.

At the same time, I’d love to hug him so many times that it becomes ordinary.

When we finally stop squeezing each other half to death, we lie back, the side of my face that isn’t minced meat coming to rest on his chest and his arm around me. For a while, we just breathe together, relishing in the knowledge that we’re both alive and mostly okay. I look around the room properly—it really is just mostly blank with two hospital beds and tables beside them, Percy’s fiddle case at the foot of his bed, one door leading outside.

I frown.

“Uh, Percy? Where are we?”

“Hm? We’re in the hospital ward.”

“…The Crown and Cleaver’s?”

“Where else?”

Oh. That’s… a thing. “How did you disguise me to smuggle me in this time?” I say, half-jokingly. My heart suddenly feels very heavy.

“I didn’t.” Percy turns his head toward me. “I, uh. Probably made the entrance of the century.” He laughs. “I didn’t have time to think. You were hurt. No one could’ve stopped me from getting you help if they’d tried.”

“But they… They helped me.” I pause. “Even though they know I’m…?”

Percy finally gets what I’m asking. “Well, at first they just helped you because… that’s what we do. After I knew you were okay, I told the Commodore and Scipio the whole story. They’re still a bit mad at me, but they… they understand.”

I raise my eyebrows in question.

Percy smiles wearily. “You can stay, Monty. You’re with us now.”

A weight falls off my shoulders. I huff. “Thankfully. I don’t think my father would appreciate it if I’d come knocking on his door at this point.”

He hums noncommittally. “I told a handful of others, too, so it’s safe to say the entire rebellion knows it by now.”

A snort of laughter escapes me. “That’s fair.” My thoughts are still a little behind. It’s a lot to take in at once. “So they… they know it’s me and they don’t mind me staying here? Even though… The attack, did it _–_?”

“Didn’t happen. A few hours after we got back, the whole Fleet just left. The Emperor must’ve known he wouldn’t have stood a chance, now that the intel was gone and the star harnessing device was useless.”

I frown. “Useless?”

“Yeah, now that the Heart is gone.”

“It’s _gone_?”

He laughs. “Yeah, that’s our fault, you know.” When I just look at him in question, he continues, “What happened back there—whatever it was—it made the star collapse in on itself. It imploded. So now it’s gone, without a trace. Well, not without a trace, as all the Links are still there.”

I hadn’t even considered that an option. For a second I’m terrified of permanently losing my bond to Percy, but when I place my remaining ear to his chest, I find our hearts are still beating as one. “That’s… pretty crazy.”

“Yep. No one has a clue what happened. It’ll probably be the biggest mystery of the universe for at least another century. It’s caused major gravitational shifts all over the galaxy, too. The Heart had a much bigger influence than we ever could’ve suspected. It’s a miracle we made it out in time.” He sighs, weariness falling over him. “By the stars, Monty, by every law of science and reason we should’ve died back there. No one’s ever been anywhere near a black hole, nevermind inside of one, and lived to tell the tale.”

“Well, I’m glad we’re not dead.” I raise a hand to his face, trailing the faint spots on his cheek with my thumb until he smiles. “I’d have to miss your freckles.”

Percy gives me one of those fond looks that melt my heart. His eyes slide closed and he leans in, breath catching _–_

The door opens. We both pull back, flustered.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.”

It’s my goddamn little sister.

“Ugh, Felicity, what are you doing here?”

“You’re not the only one who can run off and join the rebellion.” She puts her hands in her sides, and if I’d missed her in any way, it wilts like snow in the sun.

She looks… different. It’s hard to explain. I’m used to seeing her in her imperial outfitting, or, if not, at least in something vaguely Empire-approved. Right now she’s wearing jeans and a leather jacket, hair in a loose braid and her reading glasses tucked down the front of her shirt. But she also looks… happier, in a way. More alive. I didn’t know she was capable of not frowning in my presence.

“So, let’s start off with the facts. You both should be dead.”

“Good to see you too, dear sister.” I let myself fall back into the pillow and Percy chuckles quietly.

She huffs out a sigh. “I was going to say ‘I’m glad you’re not’.”

I snort. “No need for sentimentality just because I almost died, Felicity.”

“Thought so.” She comes to stand at my side. “I’m here to check on your ear.”

“I think you mean my _lack_ of ear, since I’ve been told you amputated it. When are things arranged for me to rip off your ear in retribution? Eye for an eye. Ear for an _–_ ”

“I only helped,” she cuts me off, though, to my great insult, she sounds proud of herself. “But I knew what to do. I’ve only ever read about medicine, but this was really interesting.”

“I’m glad my near-death experience was an educational opportunity for you.”

“Have you got an interest in medicine, Felicity?” Percy, ever polite, asks.

I nudge him in the side. “Just because she’s family-in-law, doesn’t mean you have to get along with her, you know.”

“ _Family-in-law_?” Felicity raises her eyebrows. “Did I miss something?”

Percy goes bright red. “No, Monty’s just being dramatic.”

I feign indignance, hand placed to my chest. “When am I ever dramatic?”

Percy smiles and rests his face in the crook of my neck.

“I’ve had an interest in medicine my entire life,” Felicity cuts back to the question. “Father wouldn’t let me pursue it. Didn’t consider it ‘an appropriate career’ for a girl of my standing. I think he just meant _for a girl_.” She scoffs. “It didn’t stop me, though. Now. Monty. Your ear.”

“Lack of,” I correct her once again. It still stings, but if I can weaponize it against my sister, all the better. “And I’m just supposed to believe you know what you’re doing?”

“Be nice,” Percy says.

With a pout, I let Felicity unwrap the bandages from my head and wait as she examines it. The cold air against my newly exposed skin stings faintly. Percy squeezes my hand.

“…It’s healing,” Felicity says, not as convinced as I’d hoped she’d be. “It’s going to leave a considerable amount of scar tissue, though. We need to get you started on antibiotics, just in case.”

I don’t reply.

She sighs, taking out new bandages. “You’ve got a real talent for getting yourself into these kinds of situations, Henry.”

“Monty.”

Both Percy and Felicity stop to stare at me. A funny feeling goes through Percy.

“I go by Monty now,” I confirm.

“You don’t have to…” Percy starts quietly.

“I want to.”

He gives me a warm smile.

Felicity starts re-wrapping the bandages around my head, and I make sure to complain plenty whenever the fabric brushes my wounds in a painful way. She mostly ignores me.

When she’s attached the ends, she takes a step back and examines her work, nodding. She pauses, then pulls in a sharp breath. “In an Empire clinic, they could fix up your face and your hearing, in a way no one would ever notice it’d been damaged. You know that, right?”

I huff. With the Empire’s resources, modern medicine has performed much greater miracles than that. I’d be back the way I was in less than a month. These rebels can’t offer me that—they can’t offer me the luxuries, the privilege, the safe and comfortable lifestyle that was reserved for me being royalty. But I can’t go back to that now—nor do I want to. I look beside me, to Percy watching me with that curious fondness in his eyes.

If it’s a choice between Percy and the rest of the universe, it’s no choice at all.

“Yeah. I know.”

  
  


Percy is officially discharged from the hospital ward later that day, as he’s perfectly fine and the brand new stardust in our veins doesn’t seem to cause any negative side effects to ourselves or anyone else. Still, neither of us is very keen on being apart so soon after almost losing each other, so Percy waits for the nurse to call it a day, then sneaks back inside after she’s left. He doesn’t bother to sneak back out in the mornings, though, resulting in us getting daily lectures that “the hospital ward is not a hotel” when she finds us tangled in my bed.

This doesn’t stop Percy, though.

I’m glad—I’m kind of lost on my own. Percy still leaves to go eat (and smuggle in some food for me, as hospital food being vile turns out to be a universal truth), which is how I find myself alone one morning, staring at the ceiling. I could go outside, but I… I don’t want to. I haven’t yet spoken to anyone but Percy and Felicity (and, briefly, the nurse) since I got back, and I’m scared of how they’ll react.

I’m bored out of my mind, with nothing to distract me from the itch in my brand new scars. The bandages came off a day ago and I’ve yet to see my face, but I’m not feeling particularly optimistic about it.

And this  _goddamn itch_ . I lift my hand _–_

_Don’t scratch it_ , Percy’s voice suddenly sounds in my head. I start a little.

_I wasn’t going to!_

_Yes, you were._

I hum vaguely.  _Mind your own business._

_No,_ he replies, which makes me laugh.

There’s a knock on the door. At first I think it’s the nurse, as Percy only just left and Felicity doesn’t knock when she comes in, but then Ebrahim pokes his head inside. He gives me a hesitant smile. “Can I come in?”

“I’m officially in quarantine,” I say, but there’s not much conviction behind it.

“I’ll take my chances.”

I huff, but don’t argue. He’s using crutches, I realize, and I want to leap up and hold the door for him, but he waves me away. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” He makes his way to my bedside and lets himself fall down on the chair with a sigh. He doesn’t say anything right away, just looks around the room, and it’s making me nervous. Out of some reflex I’ve developed, I want to reach for my mask—but it isn’t there anymore. I have to face it.

“So,” Ebrahim starts. “You and Percy really stirred up something.”

“We… did?” God, I feel like a child. He doesn’t seem mad at first glance, but I’m still on edge.

“Yeah. I don’t think anyone’s going to be talking about anything else for at least a month.” He catches my eyes. “Percy really kidnapped you, did he? And that’s when you two found out you were soulmates?”

“Yes.”

He chuckles. “Whoa. What a situation. Poor Percy. No offense,” he quickly adds. “It’s just… yeah, you know how it is. Anyway, it really explains things. He’s been acting weird the past month. Not  _nearly_ as enthusiastic about meeting his soulmate as he should’ve been.”

I say nothing.

“But it makes sense. Percy’s been head over heels with his soulmate for years. And then finding out that’s the Prince? After everything he’s been through?”

“I’m sorry.”

That makes him look up. “For what?”

“I don’t know. Lying to you all. Being the Prince. …Being Percy’s soulmate.”

Ebrahim gives me a half-smile. “Two out of three things on that list you can’t help.”

I… suppose. “Still,” I insist. “You all took me in, and I…” Deceived you. Stole information. Almost got you all killed. “I’m… really sorry.”

“Well. You put us all in a lot of danger, but you also almost died getting us back out of it, so I think that cancels out.”

I smile wearily. “How are you, actually?”

“Oh, I’m all right. Still no new leg.” He pats his knee. “But they figured out what the cough was. Completely treatable. I’m all better now.”

“I’m glad,” I say sincerely.

A shadow moves in my peripheral, and the Commodore walks in. Suddenly, I’m back on edge. Ebrahim turns around and nods as greeting.

“Ebrahim,” Aldajah says. “Could I have a word with Mr. Montague in private?”

Ebrahim grabs his crutches and makes his way to the door. Arriving there, he turns and gives me an encouraging smile.

The door falls closed.

I swallow. I’m not even sure I can look this man in the eye. I have an instinctive urge to reach for Percy, but I refrain.

I’ve survived facing my father and hurting Percy and a collapsing black hole. I’ll survive this.

“So,” he eventually says, the word mostly a sigh. “You’ve landed us in quite a situation, Your Highness.”

I wince. “Please, don’t call me that. By betraying my father and accidentally blowing up a star, I’m fairly certain I’ve lost my claim to the throne.”

He doesn’t respond to that. He sits down on the chair, and for some reason, I want to back away. But I bite my lip and stand my ground.

“Even in disregard of who you are, we’ve kicked people out for less than half of what you’ve done.” He stops himself, then sighs deeply. “No, we haven’t. We’re far too forgiving and we believe too much in second chances. That’s why we’re losing the war.”

I have no idea what to say to that.

He looks up at me. “Tell me, Mr. Montague. Do you think you deserve a second chance?”

That’s… a tough question. I fucked up, indisputably. I put a lot of lives at risk, the lives of the people who have been kind to me. Who have still treated me with so much decency, even knowing what I’d done. They had no reason to help me after I returned from the star.

But they did.

“I don’t know,” I say truthfully.

Aldajah scoffs. “You’re supposed to convince me.”

“I can’t.” It escapes me. “I’m sorry if that isn’t what you wanted to hear. But I don’t know if I’m worth it. I’m… not the most reliable person around. It’s true that you have more than enough reason to give up on me. _I_ would have given up on me long ago.” I smile faintly. “Only one person in my life never gave up on me. And that’s why I’m here today.”

This… is not what I should be telling him. But I’m too emotionally drained to stop myself.

“Percy… Percy’s always stuck by me. Even after figuring out who I was. Even after I couldn’t get over myself and admit the Empire was horrible. Even after I got mad at him and hurt him and betrayed him, he still came for me. He still risked his life to protect me, and I…” There’s a lump in my throat. “The truth is that I have no idea why. I can’t for the life of me imagine what he sees in me that he thinks is worth saving. Worth staying for. I’ve spent years trying to figure that out. And I know he doesn’t have a choice, that we’re Linked, but… there’s something there. Something in him that thinks I’m worthwhile. And I don’t know what it is, but… I want to stick around and find out.”

The Commodore looks at me for a long time, expression unreadable. “No promises? No oaths? Nothing to prove your loyalty?”

I shrug. “This is all I’ve got.”

Another eternity passes by. Then he sighs, stands up, and heads for the door. “Welcome home, Mr. Montague.”

I scoff, unable to believe my luck. “I… I can stay?”

He stops. “For now. But if I catch even a  _whiff_ of treason, I will have you thrown into open space.”

I try to bite back the grin, but I can’t. “Thank you, sir.”

  
  


I’m fitted a hearing aid about a week after I’ve woken up. It’s a curious little thing: one half of it is a speaker going into my left ear (the ear I have left), transmitting the sound it’s picked up from the other half. That is a microphone, composed of several parts vaguely shaping an earshell, which is suspended in the air next to my head—where my normal ear would be. I’ve asked how it works, but the explanation involved something something magnetism, and I zoned out about a quarter in. More interestingly, the thing has three holes in it you can put earrings through, so that’s pretty neat.

I’m still practicing taking it on and off and finding the power buttons, when there’s another knock on my hospital room’s door. It’s a faint noise, hesitant, and at first I think I imagined it.

“Someone there?” I call.

The door opens, and Jeanne pokes her head inside. My heart skips a beat. “Can I come in?” she asks quietly.

I nod.

She crosses the room, looking around, then sits down on the chair. She’s sitting hunched, making herself small. She avoids eye contact.

Shit, I have no idea what to say.

“I heard about what happened at the Heart,” she eventually says. She’s fiddling with her bracelets. She looks so different than she usually does—not as loud and confident as normal. Not the warrior who stood her ground against the Duke, or who was prepared to turn on someone she trusted to protect a friend. She just looks… scared.

“Percy mentioned he talked to you,” I say. Jeanne and Esmee were two of the few people he told the whole story first-hand, because they deserved to know. He’d stayed fairly vague about their reactions, though, so now I have no idea what to expect.

“I… I’m sorry about your ear.” She glances up at it, then away just as quickly.

“Eh, it’s all right.” I shrug. In all truth, I still lose my balance whenever I get up to go to the bathroom, and I’ve been consciously avoiding mirrors—not to mention that it itches like hell. But this isn’t the time to talk about that. “Just got a hearing aid. I hear fine again.”

She smiles faintly, eyes still low. Then she catches sight of my wrists—I realize I’ve been rubbing them, a subconscious mimic of her. The imprints left by the handcuffs still haven’t faded.

“Inhibitors,” she says.

I nod.

“They’ll go away, don’t worry.” She sits up a bit more, waving a dismissive hand. “That’s not permanent.” When she catches me staring at her scars, not sure what to say, she adds, “Not from a few hours, anyway. These…” she smiles sadly, pulling aside the bracelets on one wrist to display the lines, “…are from five years.”

My mouth runs dry. Jeanne’s looking away again, hugging herself. I have no idea what to say, so I just settle on, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “It was a nightmare. They, uh. When the Empire took my planet, they…” She shrinks down further. “They just… liked us. They thought we were pretty.” She makes her mark glow for a moment. “I still don’t know what happened to anyone in my family. We were scattered all over the galaxy, sold to collectors… I wound up in a museum.”

My instinct is to gape in horror, but I don’t want to be rude. I settle on staring, wide-eyed, and strangling the sheets.

“They figured out my little trick quickly. I was young, couldn’t think ahead, didn’t think to hide it. So they gave me inhibitors. Easy fix. Um.” Her voice trembles, hand flying up to cover her mouth. “I was there for a long time. Years. Then the Crown and Cleaver raided the museum and saved us. Percy was with them. He was the one who… And when I was here, recovering, he stayed by my side. After that I sort of… latched onto him.” She laughs, a watery sound. “Esmee didn’t get here until a few years later. But Percy was my friend.”

I don’t say anything.

“And I liked you, Monty. I really did. So when I found out that you… And that Percy was still on your side.” She bites her lip, strangling her hands. “So I didn’t _–_ ”

“You were right,” I say. That makes her finally look up at me. She’s got tears in her eyes. “To do what you did. I would’ve handed me in, in your place.”

She scoffs with a small smile. “I don’t regret it. It was the right thing to do. I’m just… sorry I didn’t know the full story. Sorry you got hurt, mostly.”

“That’s fair.” I sniff, and find my throat feels clogged up. I didn’t realize Jeanne’s story had gotten to me so much.

Ever since I started crying after the Mines, I just can’t seem to stop.

“So I guess what I’m saying is…” She shrugs lightly. “I’m not sure if I can forgive you yet. But I would like to give you another chance. Start over. So…” She extends a hand and smiles at me, a single tear rolling down her cheek. “Hi. I’m Jeanne.”

I can’t stop the smile spreading on my face. I’m tired, and I know I’ll have to rebuild everything I built since I got here, but that’s all right.

This is, in every meaning of the word, my second chance.

I take her hand and shake it.

“So nice to meet you, Jeanne. I’m Monty.”


	22. Stardust

“Are you _sure_ this isn’t going to hurt?”

“Monty, I’ve already told you, it hurts a bit.”

“Yes, but what is ‘ _a bit_ ’? On a scale from one to ten _–_ ”

“You’ve already felt it when I got my tattoo, don’t you remember?”

I huff. “That was ages ago. And I didn’t believe you were actually getting a tattoo, as we were thirteen.”

Percy chuckles. “Well, I was.”

“Hmm.”

“You don’t _have_ to get a tattoo, you know,” Sim says impatiently. She’s been sitting at my side with the needle for half an hour as I try to work up the courage to let her start.

“No, I want to!” I protest. “I’m with you guys now. I want to help out. And, besides, it’ll be convenient when I get my weapon.”

“Please, no one give my brother any actual weapons,” Felicity deadpans from where she’s seated across from me. “He’ll accidentally hurt himself or, worse, someone else.”

I send her a lethal glare. “Well, maybe not a weapon, but I deserve some kind of tool. Like a shield.”

“I already have a shield,” Percy says.

“And you, what, fucking trademarked it? Shields are millions of years old, Percy. And what if I’m attacked? What do I do then?”

Percy shrugs, eyes on the floor. “I don’t know. Maybe I just like pulling you in my arms to protect you.”

My mouth falls open, and I feel myself melting. “Aw, Perce, that’s so sweet. Come here, you sap.”

I throw my legs over the side of the deck chair and hug him, then press a messy kiss to his cheek. When I move back, I realize everyone’s watching me—not even in a bad way, but they are watching, and it does something to me.

It’s strange; in the previous month I’ve never thought twice about being publicly affectionate with Percy. I think it was because that mask granted me a secret identity, in a way. I was someone new, someone I had yet to invent. Someone who was madly in love with his soulmate and someone who didn’t have a homophobic father who’d hit him if he even looked at another boy for too long. But now… it’s just me again. Prince Henry Montague. That sense of anonymity is gone—no more messing around, no more games; whatever I do now, I have to take responsibility for it.

It’s silly to be more nervous now about being out properly for the first time in my life, since everybody already knew. It’s something I’ll have to work on. Something I can start on right now.

I kiss Percy on the cheek again, just for good measure.

“All right, lovebirds. Are you going to waste more of my time, or can I get started?” Sim says.

Percy smiles at me, and I sit back, pulling down my sleeve again. I look away from Sim lifting the needle, to Percy, who takes my hand and says _Squeeze if it hurts._ Our veins glow when our skin meets.

That’s… another thing. Us glowing had gone away entirely—or so we thought, until the next time Percy and I came close. Now it turns out that whenever we touch, we start to glow again. Which is… more of a nuisance than anything else. The light makes it a bit hard to sleep, but it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make to spend the night in his arms.

Sim moves in closer. I hold my breath _–_

“Ow, ow, stop!” I flinch back, letting go of Percy to clap a hand over my shoulder. “That hurts!”

“I was still an inch away,” Sim says dryly.

“That’s it. Out of the way, Monty. I’m going first.” Felicity stands up and gestures for me to get off the chair, then takes my place. I send her an insulted glare as I sit down next to Percy, still clutching my shoulder.

Felicity doesn’t flinch as Sim starts on the tattoo. I’m feeling a little faint, so I just bury my face in Percy’s shoulder, who puts an arm around me.

“I really felt it, though,” I say, muffled.

“Sure, love.”

About an hour later, I’m getting a bandage taped over my brand new tattoo. It’s all stark black lines against my skin. I have the urge to prod at it, but I refrain.

“When it’s faded completely, it’s healed and you can use it,” Percy says. “Takes about a week.”

Sim puts her equipment down. “Is that it? Sinjon, do you want a tattoo as well?”

Sinjon looks up from the book he’d been reading in a corner with a smile. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

Sim hums, and starts tidying up.

Sinjon. I haven’t actually talked to him a lot since he got here. Not since that disastrous evening where I decided to sabotage the Crown and Cleaver, really. He stopped by in the hospital ward when I was still recovering, just long enough so I could apologize for getting him involved in all of this (though I do feel like I share the blame with my sister), but then Felicity had come in for another check-up and he’d left. I don’t really know what he’s been up to. Might as well change that.

I pull my chair across the room and sit down next to him. “Reading, are we?”

“Um. Sort of.”

“Sort of? I didn’t know you liked to read.”

“I don’t particularly enjoy it. Generally speaking. It’s just, uh…” He goes a little red. “My roommate recommended this one to me.”

“Oh, I _see_ ,” I say, delighted. I peek inside the book, then frown. “What alphabet is this?”

Sinjon sighs deeply, putting the book down on his lap. “I have no idea.”

I laugh. “Oh my god. You’ve got it bad.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on. Is he cute?”

“Stop it. We’re just friends.”

“Right. The way you and I were friends?”

“That was different.”

“Yes, because we just had the occasional fling, and now you’re falling head over heels for your roommate.”

“Am not.” He huffs, picking up the book again. “Lin is just nice. Lots of people have been eyeing us sideways since we arrived, but he never minded that I was from the Empire.”

“Hmm.” I lean back, grinning wickedly. “So when are you asking him out?”

“I’m not going to.” He’s really blushing now. “I’m just glad we get along.”

I hum again, clearly conveying I don’t believe him. Sinjon rolls his eyes. “Anyway, how have you been?”

“Hm? Me? I’m all right. Hearing again. Sort of.” I tap against my hearing aid, absent-mindedly. “My face is forever ruined, so I’ll have to rely on nothing but my charm for the rest of my life.”

Sinjon snorts. “It’s not that bad, you know.”

“What? My charm? ‘Cause that’s excellent, just so you know _–_ ”

“I mean your face.”

I hum noncommittally. “You guys don’t have to lie to me to make me feel better.”

“I’m not.”

“Hmm.” I roll my head, then rest it against the wall. “I’m all done with stars now. Black holes and singularities and what-have-you. Never going anywhere near them again.”

“The Heart may have saved your life, though,” Felicity points out. “It killed the Duke, but it spared you two. That’s remarkable in itself.”

“So the magical star could keep us from dying in a collapsing black hole, but couldn’t fix up my ear? I call bullshit.”

“Your ear had a different cause _–_ ” Felicity starts, exasperated, but she cuts herself off with a sigh. She knows I’m just trying to get a rise out of her. “Anyway, I have to go. I promised I’d help out with this year’s round of vaccines. If you’re looking for me, don’t.”

With that, she leaves. Sim follows soon after with a small smile, something she thinks no one else notices.

…Oh.

“I should get going too,” Sinjon says, closing his book and standing up. “Bye, Henry. Sorry—Monty.” He smiles, and leaves.

Percy takes his chair, watching after him all the while. I gently punch him in the arm. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Being jealous.”

“I’m not!” Then he grins. “You can’t keep accusing me of being jealous just to buff up your ego, darling.”

“Ouch. Fair.” I let myself slump against him. “Besides, we were just discussing Sinjon’s roommate. That he gets along with _very well_.” I waggle my eyebrows at him so he understands what I’m getting at. “Unrelatedly, would you happen to know if a certain Lin is interested in men?”

“Lin? Oh, yeah, he’s gay.”

“Ah, see? My job here is done.”

Percy chuckles. “You didn’t do anything.”

“It’s all working out, Percy.” I rest my chin on his shoulder, putting my arms around his chest. “We’re all settling in here. I’m making amends with people, I get to start a new life here, with no secrets. And with you.” He’s starting to smile. Then I add, “And with half a face. My best feature, ruined.”

“It’s not your best feature,” Percy says.

“Whoa, thanks.”

“I just mean there’s a lot of other great things about you.”

“Like what?”

“Would you like the list?”

“Yes,” I say. I’m fairly convinced he won’t be able to give me one. It’s not very good of me—I’ve been trying not to think so badly of myself, aided by my new therapist, but old habits and all that. I sigh. “No, sorry. I’m okay. I’m just… Sorry. It just kind of hits me sometimes.”

Percy smiles, eyes distant, and presses a kiss to my forehead. “That’s okay.” I think that’ll be the end of it, but then he inhales sharply and says, “Know what, here they are anyway.” He sits up, putting up his hands to accentuate his words. “Five reasons to prove that Henry Montague is more than just his good looks.” He pauses, pursing his lips in thought. “Monty Montague?”

“That sounds kind of weird,” I say, amused.

“What would you have me calling you, then?”

“Darling?”

He laughs. “I mean, if I want to introduce you to someone.”

“You can introduce me as your darling.”

He briefly leans in to touch his nose to mine, smiling sweetly. “Be serious.”

“I am. But, fine. What about…” I tap a finger to my chin in thought. “Monty Newton.”

I’m a little scared of his response. He’s a bit surprised by it, but his smile doesn’t disappear. He raises one eyebrow. “I know I told Felicity she hadn’t missed anything when you called her my family-in-law, but I have to ask, did _I_ miss something?”

I laugh. “I promise you, darling, if we were to get married, I’d make sure it was the most unforgettable event of your life.”

It feels risky, like I’m skirting onto forbidden grounds. I’m not sure why, but since we got back, Percy and I haven’t really… _kissed_. Pecks on the cheek or forehead, sure, but not… I don’t know. It’s probably just a coincidence. But we’ve yet to have a proper talk about our feelings, after everything, and here I am, joking about getting married and taking his last name. It feels like leaping off a cliff in the dark, not knowing if the fall is two feet or two hundred.

“Sorry,” I quickly add on. “I _–_ ”

“It’s okay,” Percy says. He reaches out, thumb brushing my chin, and then he does that tipped-head smile that makes me lose my mind. “You’re right, though. Monty Newton sounds excellent.”

I smile, then nudge him. “Five reasons. I’m still waiting.”

“Fine.” He pulls his hand back, then splays it before me. “Number one. You’re the bravest person I know.”

I choke on a laugh. “Come on, Percy, they have to be true.”

“It is.” And his voice is so soft and gentle that I can’t help but believe him. “I know how scared you’ve been—in the Mines, at the ball, when we were held captive. But you stood your ground.”

“I lost my mind.”

“Still.”

“I left everyone behind at the Mines. We didn’t get the device at the ball. We got the star destroyed.”

Percy shrugs. “Bravery isn’t about winning. It’s about knowing you might not, and making a stand anyway.”

I hum. “What’s reason number two?”

“Reason number two,” he folds one finger down, ticking them off as he goes. “You’re resilient. You haven’t had it easy, but you’ve always pulled through.”

“Everyone here hasn’t had it easy.” I shrink down a bit, crossing my arms. “Most so much worse than I have.”

“Doesn’t mean what happened to you can’t have an impact.” And God, what ridiculous stroke of luck caused me to end up with the most amazing boy in the galaxy? “Number three. You’re fun, and I like spending time with you. You’re great to be around.”

I scoff. “I’m afraid being attached by the soul might have clouded your judgment a bit there, darling.”

“It has not. You immediately made friends when you got here. They liked you for who _you_ were.”

“No, they didn’t! They didn’t _know_ who I was.”

“Not about your status or your past. I think they’re some of the first people who got to meet the real you.” He smiles. “After me, of course.”

He’s being nice, but I can’t help but argue. “What _is_ the real me? I know I’m more than my title—former title—but even without that, I’m… still not the nicest person to have around. I’m a mess.”

I force out a laugh, but Percy can tell how serious I’m being. “Who are any of us, really?” he says quietly. He reaches out again, brushing a lock of hair out of my face, concerned crease in his brow. “I think it’s more important what we do. The choices we make in the present, not some vague abstract concept of who we _are_. People can’t be pinned down in three words.” He gives me a half-smile. “If I knew every word in every language out there, it still wouldn’t be enough to describe you.”

I huff. “That’s not necessarily a good thing.”

“It is in this case. And if you want to insist on _being_ , I… If there’s one thing we believe in here at the Crown and Cleaver, it’s second chances. We get to reinvent ourselves all the time. I think it isn’t really a question of who you are, but who you want to be.”

Oh.

I’ve suddenly got a lump in my throat, so I just nod.

“Number four. You care.”

I snort. “About myself, you mean?” He wants to argue, but I cut him off, “Percy, you’re being very sweet, but you don’t have to lie to me. I know I’ve got a lot of work left. I know there’s a long way to go before I’m a decent person.”

“Why do you want to change?” Percy asks.

That catches me off guard. “I…” I gesture vaguely, as if the words are in the air in front of me and I can snatch them. “Honestly? Mostly for you. A little bit for myself, but mostly for you, and for anyone here who’s willing to give me that second chance. For everyone who’s been nice to me, even after everything. I want to be better for them.”

“So…” Percy drags out the word, pretending to think, “I guess you could say you want to change because you care about us?”

I open my mouth, about to protest, but the argument turns to smoke. I nudge him with my elbow. “You made me walk into that one.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Percy says innocently, but the corners of his mouth curl up. “And finally, number five.” He folds his hand into a fist. “I have to warn you—the other four are indisputably true, but this one is a little more subjective. So…” He properly turns to me, taking my hands in his. When he meets my eyes, he smiles, his eyes twinkling with fondness. “Monty. You are my favorite person in the entire universe. You’ve always been the most important person in my life, and I can’t imagine a universe where that would be different. I love you more than I can put into words. You’re smart and witty and gorgeous and amazing and so much more than everything I could ever dream of. So…” He taps me on the nose. “Are those reasons enough?”

I can’t reply. My throat feels closed up and if I’ll try to speak, I’ll start crying again. So I just nod, let myself fall against his chest, and let him wrap his arms around me.

  
  


I’m practicing my balance, walking through the more abandoned part of the base. Occasionally I cross paths with people. They’ll glance at me, but move on without a word. Which is acceptable.

It’s been getting better, walking around after I lost my ear. I have to admit I didn’t really put in the effort right away, as I used it as an excuse to cling to Percy, but I have to get the hang of it sooner or later. And it’s all right. Mostly. I know there’s no way to undo what happened, but I can compensate for it. My hearing aids let me hear what’s happening on both sides of me again, I’m reworking my balance, and it’s okay. It’s okay.

Except that I accidentally caught sight of my face in a mirror earlier today and it’s completely thrown me off.

It’s bad. It’s… I’m not exactly sure what I was imagining it would be, but to actually see it—the lines in raised red, running up my forehead and down my neck… _God_. This is for the rest of my life. This is going to be the first thing anyone sets eyes on when they meet me. There’s no way to undo it. This I’ll carry with me.

“Monty?”

I stop. I don’t turn to face Percy right away—I can’t. I wait for him to come closer, as he says, “I’ve been looking for you. Felicity said they still want to talk to us about the Heart and _–_ ”

He stops dead in his tracks when he sees my face.

Or rather, doesn’t see my face.

“Why… Why are you wearing that mask?” he asks.

After my unfortunate confrontation with my reflection, I’d rummaged through my things to find it. It’s the first one, as the second got destroyed, somehow. All the better. The second wouldn’t have covered the scars on my jaw and neck anyway.

“Well,” I say. I’m trying to make a joke out of it, but my voice is wobblier than I thought. “I had a run-in with the Empire and now my face is disfigured, and I’m kind of sensitive about it.” My voice breaks on _sensitive_.

Percy closes the last few feet between us, then takes me in his arms as I goddamn start to cry again. He gently takes off the mask, putting his arm through the loop so he has his hands free, then he traces my scars with his fingers, so gently, while the tears well up in my eyes.

It doesn’t hurt anymore. Not in the literal way.

His hand comes to rest cupping my face. He smiles, and it’s the sun. “Monty, you’re beautiful.”

I sniff. “I know.”

He huffs. “Then why deprive the world?” One corner of his mouth tugs up further. “Why deprive me?”

“Go look up photos of me from before,” I say. “There’s plenty.”

Percy presses his lips together, brow creasing in something like pity. “Why would I do that when I’ve got you right here?”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I know I should just get over it, but…”

“Monty, no. Listen to me. Something bad happened to you. There’s no time limit on dealing with that. Take all the time you need. And I’m here for you, all right? Always.”

I nod, pressing my face against his chest.

Percy just holds me for a while as I quietly cry. He doesn’t say anything, just steadies me, a hand on my back and another carding through my hair, and every second I’m around him I just fall more and more in love with him.

I’m not sure how much time has passed before he speaks again.

“Monty, can I show you something?”

  
  


The ‘something’ he wants me to see, is more than a half hour of walking through the base away. I bring up my recent ear loss and dizzy spells to at least persuade him into telling me where we’re going, but it is to no avail. Percy stubbornly keeps his mouth shut and guides me further through the maze.

Finally, he slows down near a door. This part of the ship isn’t as nice and tidy as the main area, with less technology in the decaying walls, and even some fauna overtaking the corners. For the past few minutes, I’ve heard water running. It’s chilly, and darker, too. I take Percy’s hand.

“I don’t think many people know about this place,” Percy says. “I used to come here all the time as a kid. Never shared it with anyone.” He looks back at me, eyes soft and expectant. “But I want to share it with you.”

He leads me inside.

We’re in a big hall. Flowers and plants curl all over the walls, overtaking the broken wood and dusty corners. In the middle of it all, there’s a lake and a small waterfall, quietly rustling in the semidarkness. On one side, the lake slims down to a river, and it disappears from view into the next room. We must be right below the deck—there’s a hole in the roof, through which light falls in. I can see the stars.

“It’s incredible,” I say breathlessly.

Percy chuckles. “Wait for it.”

He heads over to some sort of plant near the entrance. He puts his ear to it, listening closely, then he nods with a smile. He rights himself again, and taps against it.

The plant lights up. Flowers and knobs begin to glow, following the vine as it curls through what turns out to be the entire room. Within a minute, the whole place is filled with soft, colorful light. And right when I think I’m amazed enough as it is—the light fragments, and some of it takes off. Soon the entire hall is filled up with tiny yellow lights, drifting on a breeze.

“What are they?” I ask.

One drifts by in front of Percy. He lifts a hand toward it, and it settles on his knuckle. Then he carefully carries it closer to show me. “Fireflies,” he says.

I watch the little creature stretch his wings and take off again, joining the others in their lazy dance through the dark.

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I whisper. Then I grin. “After you.”

Percy rolls his eyes. “Take off your shoes.”

“What for?”

He’s already kicked off his, bundling up the socks. “We’re going into the water.”

“What? Percy, you know I _hate_ water.”

“Oh, please. I’m not going to make you swim.” He takes both my hands and starts dragging me toward the waves rolling toward us, and I am forced to part from my shoes and socks or risk soaking them.

I take my first step in the lake, and find… that it isn’t really water at all. It’s strange—it behaves like liquid, and unfortunately, my feet do get wet, but it’s something else, too. Every step I take, it parts slightly, like a colorful cloud reflecting the light of the stars and the fireflies.

Percy guides me in until the lake reaches our knees, soaking our trousers. There he puts his arms around my neck and gives me that little in-love smile he’s got reserved just for me. He presses a kiss to my forehead.

“Why have you brought me here?” I ask.

He quirks an eyebrow at me. “Can’t I share something beautiful with my soulmate?” Still, he adds, “I… wanted to talk to you. Properly. About us.”

Oh. That… is not as reassuring as I’d hoped.

“Don’t get all worried,” he says, lowering one hand to poke me in the stomach. “I just felt like our conversation at the ball got left unfinished.”

The ball. Us slow dancing in the middle of the room, no one else existing in our private little universe. I loop my arms around him and let them rest on his waist. “All right,” I say quietly. “I’m listening.”

He casts his eyes down. “Well, I… I’m in love with you. You know that. And I… do think you feel the same.”

“You _think_?”

He smiles. “I didn’t want to assume.”

“Have we ever properly confessed our love to each other, actually?” I’m thinking back, but all out moments together have somehow blurred that fickle line between childhood friendship and something more. We’ve always loved each other unconditionally—in one form or the other.

It’s a little strange. A little unusual. But it’s ours, and that’s what makes it perfect.

“Are you trying to get me to confess my love for you?” Percy asks, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Well. I certainly wouldn’t protest.”

He huffs out a laugh. “All right, then.” He takes a deep breath, then looks me in the eye. His gaze makes me feel brave. “Monty.” He smiles on my name. “My darling.”

And, _God_ , he could stop right there and I’d still count myself the luckiest guy in the galaxy.

“I know the past few weeks have been… messy, to say the least. Frankly, I don’t think you’d disagree with me if I’d say our whole lives have been messy, and I doubt our future will be any different. We’re caught up at the center of an intergalactic war. And even if we’d somehow make it out of that… I don’t think our lives will ever be normal. But I don’t care.” He pauses, gathering his words. “Monty, I have loved you from before I knew what love was. I don’t think anything’s capable of changing that. If the universe would end tomorrow and we’d all be reduced to the stardust we’re made of, I’d still love you. It’s a part of who I am. I can’t imagine a version of me, in any time or place, that isn’t madly in love with you—with everything about you. With your eyes and your smile and your dimples _–_ ” He pokes me in the cheek until I smile, “ _–_ and your hugs and your laugh and all your stupid jokes. With the way your voice sounds in the mornings, with the smell of your hair, with the feeling of your hand in mine and with a million things more. I am so, _so_ grateful for our bond, and I wouldn’t trade a single second I’ve spent with you for the world. So I guess what I’m saying is…” He takes a deep breath. “I’d love nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you.”

I’m crying. There’s no point in denying it. The tears are running down my cheeks, getting caught in the corners of my mouth as I smile like an idiot. “Fuck,” I breathe, clapping a hand in front of my mouth. “I wasn’t prepared for that.”

Percy chuckles. “You brought it upon yourself.”

Maybe I did. Maybe somewhere, at some point in my life, I did something to make this wonderful man fall in love with me. I can’t for the life of me remember what it could be. “You don’t have to,” I whisper.

“What?”

I shrug. I’m not sure why I’m making this argument. I just know my brain keeps doing it, and I’m tired of keeping it inside. “Love me,” I say. “Just because the Heart bound us together—I know you don’t think of it as an obligation,” I stop him when he wants to interrupt. “But I just… I just…” _Can’t understand why you would. I think you shouldn’t. I think you deserve better._ “I know you have faith in me. I just don’t think I’ll be able to live up to it. I… God, you’re here confessing your love to me and I’m going on about how much I hate myself. I’m so sorry. I…”

His hand comes to cradle my chin, lifting my eyes to meet his. He doesn’t look annoyed, just endlessly, endlessly patient. “Monty. I may not… fully understand, but I’ll never be mad at you for it, okay? I will tell you that I love you every day until you believe me. If there are days you can’t love yourself… I’ll do it for you.” A sob escapes me. He just holds me closer. “Is that all right?”

I nod, and rest my face to his chest. “Sorry,” I mumble.

“It’s okay.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “I’m sure you’ll make it up to me with that amazing love confession you’ve got in store.”

I snort. “Fair enough.” I push myself away so I can look him in the eye, taking a deep breath to steady myself. “Um. I didn’t prepare anything.”

“Well. We’re not getting married.”

I laugh. “Thank God. I’d hate to be crying on my wedding day.”

“We’ll both be crying on our wedding day, because we’re just that hopeless. Now, on with it.”

“All right, all right.” I blow out a short breath, then look him in the eye. “Percy. My most dearest darling, love of loves. My favorite person. Light of my life. My soulmate. My everything.” I lean in to brush his nose with mine. “You are magnificent, you. Magnificent and gorgeous and brilliant and kind and good and… By the stars, I could never put into words how much I love you. You have always been the best thing in my life. I know I haven’t always made it easy on you, but I’m so grateful you stuck by me, and if I want to do anything with the rest of my life, it’s proving to you you were right to believe in me. It’s not going to be easy, and it’s not going to be linear, but I’m not going to give up. I… know we won’t be safe, as long as the Empire is still out there. I know we’re going to be on the frontlines of that fight. I know it’ll be dangerous, and terrifying, but I think we can do it. I think we can do anything together. So… Percy Newton…”

I go down on one knee. I’m completely soaking my trousers for this, but it’s a sacrifice I’ll have to make, for drama’s sake. A sacrifice that proves worth it to see that look on his face.

“Will you take down the Empire with me?”

Percy closes his mouth again and looks away, trying to bite down the grin. “You _bastard_ ,” he says when he looks back, leaning down to splash me with water. I laugh. “You really had me going there. Just had to one-up me, didn’t you?”

I get back on my feet, grinning. “You know me.”

“God, you’re the worst.”

“I thought I was the love of your life.”

“You’re both.”

“It is a legitimate proposition!”

“You know what, when you actually propose, I’m gonna say no. Just to mess with you.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Try me.”

We’re both red-faced and laughing, clinging to each other as the current sways around us. We sober up at the same time, though, leaning in close and wrapping our arms around each other.

“What I’m trying to say,” I whisper, “is that I love you. So goddamn much.”

Percy kisses my cheek. “I love you too. And taking down the Empire with you would be my greatest honor.”

“So is it official then? Are _we_ official?”

“As in, are we officially dating and can I finally introduce you to people as my boyfriend?”

 _Boyfriend_. “Yes,” I say breathlessly. “I’d love that.”

“Then…” His lips curl into a smile, his love for me filling up my entire being. “We’re official.”

I rest my forehead against his. I’m so close I can count his every freckle. The faint golden glow of stardust lights up in his eyes by our proximity. Two souls, entwined by a Heart, that were torn apart but found their way back home, always drawn together.

It’s something like gravity.

“May I kiss you?” I ask.

“Abso-fucking-lutely you may,” he says.

So I do.

And the universe itself seems to hum with it.

  
  


The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that was it!!! holy heck!!! i have no idea what to do with myself now!!! I'm about to get real sappy here, just a heads up.
> 
> It's been five months since I posted the first chapter of this fic. A lot has happened since then, some good things, some bad things, but this fic has really been with me through it all. I've never written anything like this - neither in length nor in complexity - and I am so, so proud of how it turned out. It's really been one of the best parts of my life recently, a truly incredible experience that I will carry in my heart for a long time.
> 
> A little bit of news: though it's definitely not for anytime soon (as I'll be spending my time on other fics and, mostly, school), I am sort of planning a sequel for this fic! I have some ideas, though it'll still take some time to get everything sorted. So! What can you expect from a Star Crossed sequel?  
> \- Percy POV!  
> \- a combination of Guide to Getting Lucky and Lady's Guide!  
> \- established relationship mercy!  
> \- sea dragons??  
> \- the fall of the Empire????  
> \- more space shenanigans!!!!!!!  
> So, if that sounds good to you and you're interested, be sure to let me know!
> 
> Finally, I want to take the opportunity to say one final giant THANK YOU - thank /you/ if you're reading this. Thank you for reading my giant funky space epic and for leaving comments and kudos and yelling at me in the discord server. I love each and every one of you and I am so grateful for all your kind words. Thank you, thank you, /thank you/ so much.
> 
> Hope you're all having a great day <3


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